Go
ahead.
Tell me you're having a bad day.
Tell me about the traffic, tell me about your boss. Tell me
about the job you've been trying to quit for the past
four years, tell me that the morning is a townhouse burning
to the ground, tell me that the snooze button is a fire
extinguisher, tell me that the alarm clock stole the keys to
your smile,
tell me,
tell me,
tell me, how blessed we are to have
tragedies that are so small, they can fit on the tips of our
tongues.
You see, when Evan lost his legs, he was speechless.
When my cousin was assaulted, she didn't speak for fourty
eight hours.
When my uncle was murdered, we had to send out a search party
to find my father's voice.
Most people have no idea that tragedy and
silence have the exact same
address.
("Complainers"
Rudy Francisco)