I remember not bothering to pay attention.
I remember watching a documentary on
journalists in Burma and they showed
footage of the dead monk in the river.
I remember my lip trembling and then bursting
out into tears.
I remember that the kids from my school had
no respect and would just laugh at the screen.
Laugh at the terror and the death of who I could
only assume was an amazing man that dedicated
his life to peace...only to be killed in the process.
Then I sat there and cried for the world.
I cried for the monk and the many others.
And I didn't stop.
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