Life was beautiful once... But it has devolved into a moment by moment death march, dodging bullets and mortars flung carelessly into the crowd. And I weep, for I have seen brave men mourn their futures and children wince from their pasts. When hope itself becomes poison and all we can do is keep fighting as if it serves a purpose, we know that something has gone very wrong with our priorities. If the internet has taught me anything it is this: The closer humanity gets to each other, the more we tear ourselves apart. There are too many floating variables, like razors set aloft in a tornado... and each of us is as likely to cut the other out of proximity as anything else... But the truth is, I stare into they eyes of my daughters and all those worries recede... there are far too many sweet innocents out there to be fully corrupted by our world. And looking back on it, we have made great strides in our humanity. Perhaps it is just the darkest parts of the storm, before the winds die down, for how can we have change without chaos?
YOU ARE READING
Floating
PoetryI've collected a lot of works I have made for me and thrown them into a mess of empathic poetry I have done for others.
