I can stick a gun in my mouth and it will jam. I can cut myself and miss. If I set myself on fire; it will rain to put me out. I can work up an appetite and not eat. If I stick my face to the wind; I won’t burn my skin. The world spins and I stay still. I can hear bombs from miles and crush rocks to sand. Give life to what is dead. I can move a hill to mountains’ domain and they won’t argue. I can throw the world into chaos and be praised. When I sit long enough; it is art. A mind can be set for this outcome. A person can image great future and greed. We have this power to march for one. We have this power to march for all. An unmovable object walks into a room. Does the room move with it? Or does it still stay? An unstoppable object steps on dry land. Does it crack? Or does it stay together? We are not malleable for a reason. But we can be broken with such few spaces. Such small and uneasy movements from across the world. It can be miles; but next to us. It’s impossible to march if no one knows how to dance. To waltz into trouble is easier than a solution’s dream. It is elegant and depressing as the same. We can compare scars but stay clothed and masked for others. We sometimes don’t miss when we cut. Sometimes the gun goes off. When a fire burns; it won’t be put out quick enough. This is real. This is life. But words mean more. Word mean more than actions because words are forever. A page can be lost and found. Paper can be cut and burned. But it’s still there in the mind of the writer. It’s still there in the mind of the poet. We as humans have the ability to move the hills. Move the world. But we care to not join. We, as many others, keep straight. We fall into the lines given ease. Giving the ease a way into the mindset of strength. Too much hate. Too much greed. Too much misunderstood points and confusion. We want to identify as something else to make us special. We want to be different than the person better than us. We worry about who said this and what they had done today. We look at horrifying things all day and change a picture to match it. We are numb. We are ignorant. We are invincible. And that’s sad.

How many more tears will I drip
On smoldering bridges
Before I accept that
They have already more than burned