The answer is no: A poem (I think it’s a poem?) about how fucked up the world is.

If I stopped you in the street. Would you stop and help me?

I’m not begging, but there’s some issues that the world needs to address.

At what point did our society, in search of progress and innovation,

Turn the calm sea that washed away impurity, to one that washes away the bodies of those broken by war?

The sun beating down on the poverty stricken is the same sun, regardless of if you have access to a food bank or not.

Regardless, of if you have a job or not. 

Poverty lives.

Never has been truer, the Shakespearean phrase ‘there are daggers in men’s smiles’

Than those gleaming daggers in the mouths of politicians.

Bombing for peace.

An oxymoron of propoganda and distain for fellow human beings.

But they aren’t like us, you tell me.

Forgive me, sir, 

But the last time I checked, 

they breathed and their hearts beat like ours.

The daggers gleam once more, as they separate the people in their land into those who are worthy and those who are not.

But I can tell you sir. All human beings are worthy of life.

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