who are you?

Will you ever get over the world?

 

The times are treacherous: harm is hyped up more than hugs, experiments in the form of over-the-counter drugs, TV says reality is one drama-filled party, all blacks are thugs, women should know their place, playtime's over, children. And all we do is pray about it.

 

The rich are making the world cold, overcharging for roofs over heads & warm clothes. When they all fall over dead, it's a shame the world cannot heat up with the Hell entrapped in their souls.

 

See the silent stresses louder than car alarms. Overworked moms standing in lines to pay for food, hoping the cards don't decline til Friday's check. Dads watching the 1st of the month draw near, regretting that they have to figure out who to rob next. And that will only cover paying the rent; the unsolved mystery is paying for heat to emit from the vents. A soul shouldn't have to bundle up with crime or be frozen doing time. This world is cold. Ask the lord if it's stuff he knows, or if body tissue being blown like snot is just a byproduct of the current climate's ills. The homeless are stepped over in lieu of being the Answer to a struggling score; no passes to give or a place to lay up via assist. This is not a fun game.

 

But we ask of our loves & ourselves that they look at the bright side, withstand the thunderstorms & look for the silver line, wait out the darkness & be ready for the sunshine. It's reality for some, yet rose-tinted fallacies for others who might die before their sons rise. How big is your heart? What's your gun size? None of it matters as much as training yourself to build a bulletproof mind, & not taking your neighbor's eye even if he renders you blind. See the truth from a mile away, even in the midst of being surrounded by lies. Heaven is created by your hand's actions, and Hell is too.