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They landed with shaking hands and blood in their teeth
Now you film your breakfast and call it resistance
They faced fire. You post feelings.
They screamed. You scroll.
They crawled through the mud so you could sit clean
Now you're hashtag crying on a sponsored screen
Your granddad watched his best friend burn
You whine when the wifi takes a wrong turn
Your nails are painted like a protest sign
But you'd run if shit got real - don't lie
We buried real men with real wounds
And you sell trauma in cute cartoon tunes
We used to storm the beach for something real
Now you storm out because someone hurt your "feel"
You quote revolution in a cotton tee
Made by slaves for your online identity
Your feed's a fucking battlefield of fake
Where no one bleeds, but everyone breaks
You're overdosed on curated rage
With no clue what it means to feel the cage
This isn't progress. This is paint on a tomb
This isn't awareness - it's just costume
You say you care, but you don't carry shit
Your empathy's rented. Your pain is lit.
They died with fire in their lungs
You repost facts like bullets from your thumbs
You want the medal, not the mess
You want the win, but never the stress
We are the ghosts they tried to hide
We remember the blood they tried to sanitize
D-Day's not a post. It's a scream in the dark
You buried it under your branding marks
You didn't learn. You didn't even stay
You turned the battlefield into a runway
You tattoo their sacrifice on your feed
While sipping chai in curated grief
You speak of war, but you've never fought
Not even for yourself - not even a thought
You film yourself crying in your dad's SUV
Say you're broken. But what does that mean?
You were handed more than they ever had
And you still treat comfort like it's something bad
Raise your voice - just not too loud
Raise awareness - just don't leave the crowd
Hold a sign. Then take a nap
Call it change, post a recap
They left parts of themselves in the dirt
You left your soul in your Google alerts
They screamed for help in languages lost
You scream online when shipping costs
We are not your scripted pain
We are the flood behind your rain
D-Day was horror, not performance
It was fear, not a "brand importance"
You didn't inherit their strength - you sold it
You wore their names, but never held it
You walk through museums in heels and pride
But you never hear the silence inside
Their stories rot beneath glass and plaque
While you perfect your selfie with the Union Jack
You're not rebels. You're just dressed up
Sipping latte rage from a plastic cup
You want the badge without the bruise
You want the quote, not the fucking truth
This isn't peace - just silence rebranded
This isn't freedom - just chains left handed
They gave their lives. You gave your likes.
And now we rot... while you swipe.