As I write cold air brushes against my skin
Shivers run up my spine as I think
What is this place, which we call 'life”?
Life filled with happiness?
Or filled with coldness?
'Hatred is to love as love is to blindness'
Universe filled with ignorant people
I look upon them as confused little ants
Running from place to place to get away from danger
We are the Endangered specie I say
People filled with hatred and yet love?
People admit they want to die
Yet when given the opportunity they squirm away...and plead to God for forgiveness
As I fill my paper with such words at this given moment
A child out there is being beaten to death,
A near by store is being robbed,
A woman is being raped at this very moment,
And the list continues…
“Hatred is to love as love is to blindness”
that's all i have to say
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