Maniac Days

To one day witness peace in a world made maniac by violence; a world where we clutch the worry-bead bones of the dead, listening for the next catch of breath in the gun’s throat. To witness forever-living flowers, prayers, and restfulness adorn the graves of those who’ve left the world far too soon. To believe what I was led to believe as a child: that every life is sacred, and must be treated as such. That when we finally let go of one another, it is only because our natural time to pass has come. Death bearing no bullets, no chokeholds, and no hanging ropes.

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