“Did You Know?”
Did you know
that the ones who smiled
with Balkan charm
hid iron beneath their tongues?
Did you know
that behind the sweet words
were boots —
and those boots remembered
how to march?
I have met Albanians
who spoke of brotherhood
while building walls.
I have seen Bulgarians
who grinned
as if cruelty were a birthright.
Not all wear swastikas.
Some wear silk shirts
and speak seven languages.
Some live in Switzerland.
And some
beat my brother.
So no—
don’t tell me history is over.
Don’t speak of unity
when I still taste
my own blood.
I don’t care
what your flag says.
I don’t care
how your anthem sings.
If your heart
finds power in humiliation,
if your pride
feeds on someone else's pain—
then yes:
you are the thing
you claim to hate.
And I,
child of mountains and silence,
have seen enough
to know
what a Nazi spirit looks like
without a uniform.