By Welsing Hanse
Your voices are bold and loud
Proclaiming your thoughts like thunder,
Will my whispers be called fake?
We still enjoy the same rain,
You see the showers through your windows
I feel the droplets from the leaking roofs.
For you no longer see truthfulness in me
And I look strange to you,
That doesn’t mean I have given up being truthful
Truth for you,
Is no longer the truth I speak.