You Have To Fight For What You Love

A lot of days, I feel like tea

seeping in nonsensical violence.

Either heartbroken at the kids and dads

who give their lives

upon the command

of some half-wit dictator

who manipulates them into thinking

it is for the greater good.

And it is.

The good of the pockets of those

who defend the righteousness of

cheap gas, corporate personhood, rampant consumerism,

and, I guess, the freedom to

run on that neverending wheel.

 

Or violence at grocery stores

and PTA meetings,

when someone cuts in line

or tells the children not to scream inside

or jump off the tables.

Words, anger, grudges ensue,

causing a bigger rift

between all of us broken humans,

distracted from the things

that are truly important.

Things which we truly love.

 

I wonder if I know

what I truly love anymore.

The kind of love that

I would really fight for,

that I would nobly die for.

The thing that makes this whole world

so beautifully illuminated

it would be worth

not seeing that world again.

Not marred by even subtle flaws

or logical loopholes.

I wonder if there is anything

in this world nowadays

or at my age

that has that kind of

compelling purity

beauty

meaning.

And introspectively,

I need to dive deep down

to discover

if I have the courage

to actually fight

for what I love (even if that means myself),

having looked on

so many times before

as it slowly, achingly

floated away.

 

 

 

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