Our World is Fuled on Hate

Every life that is lost is a critical concern, yet people end them so easily. A life is nothing to play with. Bodies drop every second, including the seconds it took you to read this. Their blood suppresses the very ground they walk on in the brightest shade of red. And then the very next day any evidence of that fading life is gone. Human beings are the most complicated creations ever to be made. How can a person love the lives around them so much, but be so easily willing to go and end someone else's? Don't you know they were just like you? Living. Breathing. Loving. A life.


Did you look them in the face when you did it? Did they plead and beg to you not to do it or did they stay silent? What did you see in those eyes of theirs? Anger? Panic? Fear? Sadness?...Exception? But really how could you not see the clearest thing there? A life. Did their breathing quicken? Slow? Did they look at you or the weapon first? Did you hesitate? Do you regret it?


A voice can tell a story, a stance can describe a story, but the eyes, the eyes show you the story. When a person is faced with a moment like that, what they do next will speak the loudest. Words are meaningless if they don't match the expression they show. Did they cry?... Did you cry? Did you care at all? Did your bullet pierce that body as if it was a puzzle piece completing the puzzle? Did their blood create a stream flowing down the street? Did their body drop like a rock? Hate is a strong emotion.


Did your mind go blank as the body suddenly feel? These questions are pointless now. The deed has been done, its over. Ain't no forgiveness. Ain't no forgetting. Ain't no second chances. You not getting any of that from me. I don't give a damn about your backstory, your depressing life. You didn't know them, that was a stranger that did nothing to you. That body was target practice and now you lookin for a new one.


But don't worry, you probably won't even get caught, and even if you did, that story of yours will give you the least worst punishment. Probably some bullshit like community service. As if you didn't just end a life. As if you didn't just put a bullet into someone's skull. As if you didn't even hesitate to put a few more in. Cause you know 6 more wasn't enough. 1 wasn't bad enough. Cause you know you were just going through a hard time and just need a hug. Cause the family of the person you just killed was overreacting. That they must've done something wrong and not the other way around. That your the good guy that was dealt the bad hand.


You ain't no god. You don't get to decide who lives and who dies. Influence of the human mind is a dangerous thing. Effortlessly manipulated. But it's ok. I'll make sure you get your turn. You gonna get this work and I ain't gonna make it easy. Imma make sure you experience everything they did. You gonna feel the pain. You gonna be scared.


Only then will you realize how wrong you were. 

This poem is about: 
Our world


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