America, what good are you without your children?
Want something and then let yourself have it.
Sand covers the land from border to border. Flags of different colors and people are raised proudly in cars and throughout the streets. Buildings that once held happy families have lost their souls as their inhabitants have left them behind with empty promises of return. The occasional rubble is in the streets and beautiful towns are only remembered by the people who once walked the streets. The martyrs are the beauty of these towns now as their blood decorates the streets. The plants bloom with the tears of mothers, the blood of children, and the sweat of soldiers. War is such a horrid thing yet some still find the beauty in it. I've always been nostalgic for a place I had never been.
Nostalgia is a bitter emotion.
I can't give you what you want. My body is screaming at me for help like a child lost in the supermarket. I willingly entered this situation though. Yet I find that the choices that I face now are not my own. My body is not my own any longer. Tears camouflage with the water that engulfs me completely. The world truly never stops spinning. Mother Nature has left me behind. My body is not my own any longer. I scream and only the sharks hear me and they have no pity for screaming girls. Life fades to black like my favorite film. Mother Nature I realize has not left me behind but has let me join her and become one with her once more.
What are you afraid of?
How do you change the hearts of the people? Especially when you cannot even convince those you love to do the same?
Confronting my activism.
Dead men tell no lies.
But dead men make all the lies.
Make us all believe they are watching over us.
But why watch your past when there's a whole future before you?
War is tragic at best. We send our children off to die by the hands of another. Compensation will never be a child yet we will take it anyways. Proud we should be to win the war in the end. The battle may have been won but our child will be forever lost. Even when our children do come back they are still lost somewhere in the wreckage of a battlefield on lands that our feet will never touch. Liberated is the land yet our children have taken the fall and are forever captured in a life where there is no liberation.