I haven’t considered the size of the universe. The speck I am, and the fact that I am human- With every courageous drop of blood. From bullets and bombs and stabbings. There on one knee, screaming for our humanity beside humanity. And I didn't understand,...
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I haven’t considered the size of the universe. The speck I am, and the fact that I am human- With every courageous drop of blood. From bullets and bombs and stabbings. There on one knee, screaming for our humanity beside humanity. And I didn't understand, slapped so hard I gasped. I didn’t think I did anything wrong. Some days I wish I'd never learned. But I'm alone. I absorb darkness. My mind so primitive with bloody thirsts that I can’t feel sadness. I allow myself to feel pity because I am hurt. I am resentful. I can’t breathe. My mind is truly sick, sick as bodies lying dead. What is wrong with me? I am so human it's a shame. I am the primitive version of humanity. The nomenclature of power, sex, and sexuality. For the sake of our humanity, I embrace the heroes and saints if change. Yet my mother wept. Angry and confused. For chaos. For unequivocal fear of sociological toxicity. The sun is rising. And love will always love me. While the body hurts, sobbing, remembering nights of te
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