a cry into a void

(A lil poem/prose to try to some up some thoughts I’ve had about our world lately.)

I think we pretty viciously point fingers at those who spew hatred.

We say they are vile, cruel.

Mean, unusual.

We imply that they are the ones who ought to be hated.

All the while marking ourselves as clean and pure. Incapable of such darkness.

We put ourselves on pedestals.

We expect the peasants to bow.

We are the conquerors of this new, wholesome world.

As bathed in blood as the generations of filth who preceded us.

“But we are not them,” we cry.

We fight for the right, just cause.

Just as they believed.

Our weapons? Our words.

Our misguided belief that our negativity is justified.

Not all hatred looks the same.

We’ve been raised, ready to identify any hatred that doesn’t look like our own.

“But we are blameless. We fight the good fight.”

All the while cultivating more hatred. All the while harboring more negativity than ever before.

Our hatred is as diverse as we are.

It looks like gestures, words, laws, ended friendships.

Nearly impossible to see your own.

Even as it covers you like a dark mud.

All are at fault. For contributing to a vicious cycle.

Twist your wrist now. The finger points into your own heart.

Cry if you must. Cleanse the festering wound, covered in haphazardly patched bandages.

Open your palms for unification.

Welcome to a new world.

We are all here to stay.

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