What is to come?
From a world where our children are given guns to play with,
It’s not the squirting of water,or release of plastic bullets, it’s the message we shoot into their heads .
Triggering violence from adolescence.
Planting seeds of hate,
And watering them with spilled blood .
Waiting for the fruit to ripen, but it never does,
Now we have the taste of bitterness lingering on our mouths.
That bitterness stays on our tongues ,
So that when we speak, that’s all that comes out.
You see Somehow the fruit is never as sweet as when it’s forbidden.
Sugared by sin,
Borrowed from thy neighbor, because when it’s sin there’s always enough to go around.
What is to come?
From a world where we are told to express ourselves , but within the guidelines.
Told that the world is your canvas , but restricted to only the color white.
It isn’t as pure as it seems.
Underneath the white paint lies splashes of read , gushing from a black body.
There is no canvas, all we are given is a painted picture, of what perfect looks like.
So that we Erase anything that doesn’t fit the image.
The slightest difference is reason for war.
Be it the quantity of melanin
Be it religion
Be it Gender.
What is to come?
Of a world that is only tolerable through the shade of intoxication .
Where pills serve as capsules of happiness
We are our biggest enemy,
Our pain is self inflected.
If this is what it is ,to be human
What is the cure?
