Sick Cycle Carousel

I was never one for faux race wars, actually, I find it quite a bore.

Pity the man who has dark skin, for he shall never win?

Or what of the white that dominates the night, that shows no sign of stopping, shining so bright?

Is it possible to blast him out of the sky, watch his life flicker and fade like the neon glow of a lightning bugs belly being ripped from its body?

Will it all stop, then, after we’ve gotten the last one?

If the fight between races were to die out, there would be something else to fight about.

It seems to me, humans love to fight, live to fight, lie to fight. It’s all we know, it’s familiar to us, we don’t know what it’s like to have a moment’s rest.

©privatethoughtsmadepublic. 2016.


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