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The River of Hate

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Prejudice, what is it?
Is it a river flowing into a lake?
Is it death?
Is it rebirth?
Is it how we are supposed to be?
Or how we were not supposed to be?
Does it matter on which side of the river we stand,
Or if we are the one drowning in it?
“Why” someone might say.
“Different” the word is echoed across the shore.
Different is not a word.
Inside we are all in the river and on the shore.
Inside I am you.
Inside you are me.
Then why say different.
No response…





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