Mar 2014
Have you ever just sat and thought?
I tend to over think a lot. Or at least that's what my mom tells me.
I don't call it over thinking
I call it a realization. A realization of the mechanics of society, the world, everything.
A realization that while everyone goes on with their dull, ordinary, mundane lives there are people out there dying, missing, or lost.
People who are hurt, beaten by the ones that are supposed to love them,
People who have never seen a book in their life and likely never will.
People who can't read or write.
People who can't even remember when their last meal was, or when their next will be.
Those who are sold like property. Those who are owned. And yet here we are, doing nothing.
Talking about how long the drive to see your mom was.
Or how your friend was rude
Like I said realization. But it's the truth. But the truth hurts doesn't it?
So everyone would rather give it cute name, put it in a pretty box and set it on a neat little self away from daily life.
You donate money to the charities of course
For the cause
Five? Ten? Twenty? Put in a neat little white envelope and sent in
For the cause.
Then what?
You go back to your life, of course
And try hide from the fact that people are dying or starving or hurt.
While you talk about, what kinda of shoes someone wore.
But none of that really matters.
Some people like to hide from reality in different things.
For some it's books, movies, drugs, music, others bury themselves into work or family until they can't hear the cries of the starving boy, and the beaten little girl.
Others hear them But the ignore them
Like selective hearing or a light switch
Drown them out with complaints and the humdrum of everyday life while another little boy is shot and another little girl is sold.
Talk about school, homework, and boys
To try and drown out the fact that we aren't doing anything to help.
That we are letting this happen, and we are a bystander to this.
To drown out the fact that while the girl dies and the boy is sold that we are sitting around.
Doing nothing.
Or maybe it's just me?
Maybe no one else thinks about the bleeding little boy and the crying girl.
And if you don't then I hope that this is your realization.
I tend to over think a lot. Or at least that's what my mom tells me.
I don't call it over thinking
I call it a realization. A realization of the mechanics of society, the world, everything.
A realization that while everyone goes on with their dull, ordinary, mundane lives there are people out there dying, missing, or lost.
People who are hurt, beaten by the ones that are supposed to love them,
People who have never seen a book in their life and likely never will.
People who can't read or write.
People who can't even remember when their last meal was, or when their next will be.
Those who are sold like property. Those who are owned. And yet here we are, doing nothing.
Talking about how long the drive to see your mom was.
Or how your friend was rude
Like I said realization. But it's the truth. But the truth hurts doesn't it?
So everyone would rather give it cute name, put it in a pretty box and set it on a neat little self away from daily life.
You donate money to the charities of course
For the cause
Five? Ten? Twenty? Put in a neat little white envelope and sent in
For the cause.
Then what?
You go back to your life, of course
And try hide from the fact that people are dying or starving or hurt.
While you talk about, what kinda of shoes someone wore.
But none of that really matters.
Some people like to hide from reality in different things.
For some it's books, movies, drugs, music, others bury themselves into work or family until they can't hear the cries of the starving boy, and the beaten little girl.
Others hear them But the ignore them
Like selective hearing or a light switch
Drown them out with complaints and the humdrum of everyday life while another little boy is shot and another little girl is sold.
Talk about school, homework, and boys
To try and drown out the fact that we aren't doing anything to help.
That we are letting this happen, and we are a bystander to this.
To drown out the fact that while the girl dies and the boy is sold that we are sitting around.
Doing nothing.
Or maybe it's just me?
Maybe no one else thinks about the bleeding little boy and the crying girl.
And if you don't then I hope that this is your realization.
