I’ve seen future lives lose an early start to the
hidden hands of the sickness in their heart.
And instead of love the world won’t try to
see this. In the blacked out rooms where the
real pain grows, the shooting gallery yearns
in droves. While the torn families can’t
understand everything. And instead of love
the world won’t try to see them. For the few
that try to push past it’s malevolent glow,
there’s a hundred mile waiting list and
disappointment in tow. And instead of love
the world won’t try to see this. Instead of
love, we have too many ways to hide from
wasted lives, because it hurts to see them. It
hurts to see them go. What if everyone could
finally see them . Wouldn’t it be less appalling?
Anyone who’s heart beats for somewhat long
needs to help to be helped to be here. I am
trying my hardest to be here.
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