I Create Hope

I create a voiceful air made voiceless by those who don’t, or just never seem to, care. I create a voiceless air because I care. Because I am surrounded, shrouded, cut, and drowned by, and in, the ignorance I live in, but not for, I am approached with knives and razors, by the names of words, that cut forever more. I create Hope. Hope that one day we accept life before we accept its end. Hope that one day we accept life before we condemn its beginning, because here and now we condemn unplanned and teen pregnancy, but we accept it far more openly than we accept SAME unity; equality. Hope that one day we can bring to an end the dying torture and fed flame that we recognize through judgement of ones skin by the name of racism, prejudice, discrimination, because we see our skin before we see our character. Hope that one day we learn to live what we teach, breathe what we believe, allow what we never allowed ourselves to perceive regardless of the love, fairness, judgement, and clarity that accompanies such an aforethought irrational dream that I dream and a man before me once dreamed. “I Have a Dream.” (verbatim) Hope that we can acknowledge the truths of the world rather than the religious boughs and buffs of existence that we choose to apply to the lives of others before our own because we can not accept how we see ourselves. Hope that we surpass the expectations of ourselves as people, and hope that we surpass deceit and the being of morally feeble. I use ‘we’, ‘us’, and ‘ourselves’ because we are as equals; we are as one; we are together. As we are together we learn to live together, and despite living in manners as some of us may not accept we agree to disagree, but we do not force our own to live under our principles. We live freely. We live together, and despite the redundant delivery, we do not die alone but with each other, because with every sacrifice a little piece of ourselves die with us because we are one. That death... becomes a pain of breathless decent made visible and noticeable by the felt blow of intensity that shatters reality. We feel that pain. We feel the fatality. We feel that reality. We are not the voices that cry out this pain, but we are the voices that cry out against it though we create it ourselves. Our answers lie at the voice of our youth who cry to abolish the pressure forcefully supplemented by the latter. In truth, we create hate. We. Create. Hate. Though we can only hope for the strength to stand and begin to abolish hate, and I hope through creativity. I create Hope. I create a voiceful air.