Violence is a standing ovation for self laceration on stage.
Violence is the moth who still doesn’t fly away when the lid is lifted.
Like the ghost of an aggressor who lingers over your shoulder when you left him six months ago. 
Fear is feeling my hands tremble and my throat close up because I don’t know if I can be honest.
Safety is more than a physical condition.
Hatred is claiming you love me and still choosing to suffocate my community.  

Don’t you get it.