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Literature Text
The wisdom of the world is hidden
Under thousands and thousands of voices
That are afraid to speak.
The wisdom of the world is silenced
By thousands and thousands of cowards
That are afraid to hear it.
The catastrophes are not caused by an evil person's violence
The catastrophes are ignored because of a good person's silence.
We can prevent this
If we give everyone a fair chance
To speak their mind.
To speak their truth.
To speak their wisdom.
Under thousands and thousands of voices
That are afraid to speak.
The wisdom of the world is silenced
By thousands and thousands of cowards
That are afraid to hear it.
The catastrophes are not caused by an evil person's violence
The catastrophes are ignored because of a good person's silence.
We can prevent this
If we give everyone a fair chance
To speak their mind.
To speak their truth.
To speak their wisdom.
Literature
Different
Some people are just different
And you don't have to like them
Simply accept and respect their ways
And they'll do the same to you
Literature
Ignorant Wisdom
The best of us die young
Why?
We are blood and body
Mind and muddled matter
That decays from the very air
Necessary like an addiction
Our eyes are skin and sinew
Senses intaking a surface
But to the machine of faults
What is there lost to us?
The best of us are of will
As what will be passed belief
The demanding of subconscious
Edicts of the soul
Then why do they die?
Why must a will be severed
When it drives our existence
All that there is
And will ever represent us?
Why do vessels feed the muscle?
Bones hold up our legs
And a head with strong neck
That its aspirations rise?
The best of us accomplish
Tasks of a higher calibre
Like a
Literature
This is not a poem (the world is broken)
This is not a poem because this
is for the hollow-eyed teens
stubbed out and stamped on
by society like the cigarettes
they hold in pale fingers as they
try to laugh the pain away but
never entirely succeed.
This is not a poem because this
Is the silent cry of the rapist’s victim
As they look into the mirror and a
Thousand ugly words, screams
And pleadings echo back from the
Dark alleyway and all they think is
‘worthless.'
This is not a poem because this
Is for the boy told he cannot cry, because
It’s a weakness to ‘act like a girl’
And this is for the short-haired
Girl told it’s not her place
To R
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