God gave us the instinct to move
From the piercing needles of fire
And the urge to turn and run
From the catapulting threat of ammunition
We then
Disinfect the burn
Set the bone
Bandage the cut
But,
We defy the instinct to move
From the scorching hate of inequality
And ignore the urge to run
From the miscalculated threat of indifference
We are
Infected with the propensity to
Set ourselves superior to those
Cut from any other cloth
I am not really sure what I feel about this poem. I'm not sure if I love it or if I hate it. It gets a point across, but I'm not sure that it's the image that I was trying to portray. Either way, I hope you get something from it, dear reader. Feel free to share your thoughts below.
