Fighting Alone

The folly of prejudice...

It whistles through the air
and no one can You find
when all around You is burning down.
death is overrated
so beautiful it seems to be
the fire is a wall.
only Some can fight the hate
can see the war that isn’t there
and We can’t control the pain.
weapons can’t kill them all
there is no danger to extinguish
do We understand what We see?
rage can’t fight Our war
loathing isn’t Our answer
because the danger is Ourselves...

Author's Note

(Note from Feb 2012): This is another one from my mid-high school days. I do feel sad that I don't remember actually writing this one, which also means that I don't remember what I was really going for. My best guess is that it was one of those impulsive, "I feel more like writing than actually making sense" moments. I do remember one thing, though, which is arguably the most important; the great thing about this poem was that a couple of years after writing it, I went back and read it over. After I finished reading it a couple of times, I came to the realization that the poem was actually alluding to the general stupidity that comes from stereotyping and prejudice. I was fascinated by this because I wouldn't have imagined writing about something like this intentionally at that time. Feel free to disagree with me about the meaning, maybe I was just trying too hard. I appreciate any and all thoughts: critiques, suggestions, and analyses. Thanks :)