The lives of others are not just lines for your screenplay,
not projections you can place neatly on an actress,
not fun little trinkets you can use to attract award show voters.
They are lives.
of real people,
at risk to the restraint that you said was okay,
because you didn’t know enough,
or learn enough to realise that it REALLY wasn’t.
You say you wrote a love letter to the ones without voices,
but you were the one who stole them,
distorting and destroying the voices of those who pleaded for another portrayal,
betrayal heavy in the air,
as you smile and tell them
“It’s a love letter!”