If I would carve a being

Out of all the words

They have said of me

I would be terrified of her


When words were given us with a choice on syllables to utter

Why choose the syllables that injures souls


When we could live the day with thoughts that ignite a life

Why choose the thoughts that deny one


When there is so much yet to be unearthed by our fragile brains

Why choose to believe our futile knowledge is enough


When love is free and hate is sold at a price of tears and bombs and blood and guts

why choose the one that costs our soul


When we hold a book passed down through ages that we profess to hold true to,

That speaks of nothing but to learn to love the person next to us 

Why have we learnt none?


When we were all born of one Maker of one Hand one Heart

Why do we despise some Hearts,

Why do we feel like the Hands that made us were but one

And live like the Maker is ours alone.



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