At Your Own Discretion

Stop and take a look around.
I stare at the ceiling and see blood on the walls,
blood of the heroes fighting for our country,
struggling for equality, to stay alive.
I see handprints made by the kids in our streets trying to survive.
Children dying of neglect and abuse while we're in Africa helping THEIR kids.
I'm looking at empty plates on the floor,
hunger surrounding us like the blanket of night.
Death clinging on like a mother to her child,
a child to their blanket: comfort, security.
Peace of mind doesn't live here, hopes don't thrive here anymore.
I've been walking around this room stepping on pills and such.
Pretty little poisons running through the veins like black blood.
Get high or die trying.
Too bad your friends 6 feet under can't say the same thing.
The room is filled with shallow whispers.
Whispers saying money is the root of all evil.
But the world knows the truth, the scary truth that people are the root of all evil.
Just look around.
Don't tell me you don't see it, cause in my eyes, that’s all I see.





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