The wolves are at our doors, they are growling and snarling, biting at our heels. We don't notice we're too busy living our lives ...
Off in the distance a child cries as his mother beats him while his father smokes crack and looses touch with a reality he can't face. The child is six under- nourished with quite big brown eyes that keep a look of constant terror. His only crime , being born. What shall become of this little boy so alone , hopeless , friendless. Who cares about another black child from the inner city ? Who cares about his mother herself a victim of abuse. Who cares of his father lost in depression and despair. His only love.. the dirty white chunks of cocaine he smokes from a pipe he stole at the tobacco store when the clerk wasn't looking . Who cares? Who ?
A few statistic's.
Across town a young girl sits in her room surrounded by her lavish possessions staring at the ceiling . Wishing her mother would give her a hug and say, " I love you." Her mother is the head of the annual country club fund raiser. Appearances are important to her. Her daughter is an embarrassment. Her daughter has bulimia. Her daughter cuts her skin to feel. Just to feel something , she has never felt love she has everything but love. Who cares about another rich white girl who cuts herself to feel. Who? Who cares about an affluent white woman who's idea of success is measured by status and appearances . She grew up in a loveless home wearing her sister's hand me down's now she gives her Ralph Lauren and Donnatelli to the local Salvation Army. Who cares about this woman ? A woman who never knew anything but struggles in life . In her warped thinking she thinks possessions and social status equal love . Who cares?
Another statistic.
In a small suburb in middle America a young boy of sixteen is about smoke his first hit of crystal meth. His mom and dad smoke marijuana with him , so its cool . So at the urging of his friends he takes that first hit and is forever chasing that feeling lost in a world of paranoia and destruction . Who cares about another meth -addcit whose parents are too busy getting high to notice their son is nothing but bones, anger and nerves with track marks on his thin arms. Who cares?
Another statistic.
Across the sea in a city called Baghdad a young woman of twenty-four looks at a photograph of her child. She joined the Army to make a better life for her only child. She didn't want her child to struggle and wear hand me downs and eat lunch with the free lunch passes that always embarrassed her as she handed the card to the woman with downcast eyes. The food always tasted bitter. She could barely swallow it. So to the Army she went when she graduated because she couldn't afford college and no one would give her a student loan. Her baby was a year old when she graduated . Now she sets in a strange land with sand blowing around her blurring her already blurred teary vision as she hears gunfire in the near distance , a tear fall's on the picture of the babe she so longs to hold close and smell , a fellow soldier fall's to his death.
Who cares about this woman who was only trying to make a better life for her fatherless child? Who cares? Who cares for this babe who misses her mommy every day and doesn't understand why she doesn't come home, who cares? Who cares about the young man of twenty - one just married six months dreaming of one day working with his dad in his dad's auto repair shop so he can buy his wife a nice house . Who cares that he lies on foreign soil as his life force seeps into the land's desert sands and he gasps his last breath . Who cares?
A couple of statistics..
In another land far away men sit in secret places and plot against their enemies as they prepare for Holy War. America is evil and must fall. These men have been taught from the day they could say their first word to hate America and all she stood for so hate they do and they do it well and it shows Who cares about the men and the evil in their hearts? Who cares?
Just statistics .
In a city in America in a house that's white a man sits in the oval office and wonders how and what has happened with a war he conceived before he ever entered the sacred office. A war he thought would be over and out in a few months. Does he care ? Does he feel the pain a young wife feels when the man walks to her door in uniform to inform her her husband with the crooked smile and dancing eyes will not be coming home to work with his dad ? Does he feel the pain of the mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and friends and lovers and crack babies and crack w****s and drug addicts and millionaires and bums and gays , straights , black , white , red, yellow , brown , albino , freckled , flawed , perfect , sane , insane. Does he feel the pain ? He has a job to do he has an agenda.
The fault lies not with this one man but with all of us . From here to Timbuktu and all points in between. From the people of all the colors of the rainbow , all walks of lives - do we care ? And if we do care what can we do ? We are just one man or one woman. What good is one voice?
Just another statistic.
The wolves are closing in and the world will never be the same again.
Written awhile back......and lately i have little time for writing and too much going on in my head and life for thinking so another from when i was inspired a little bit.also, i love reading the reviews as everyone has something to add and make me think ..That's why i feature it, love your opinions and thoughts
So we don't have to be just a statistic..unite through writing. words.
Write Senators, Congressmen and women .. unite .. speak your mind and make it heard ..
It is a quarter to doomsday..clock is ticking ...don't hit snooze..right?
My Review
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Oh my Chloe what have you written her, this is really something of monumental magnitude as you reach deep into the soul of humanities current state... as we wrestle with our little problems the world around become a collage of faces but we don't want to put names to them so we can remain ignorant and therefore not feel guilt or shame for not lending a hand... and the government doesn't want to hear our problems unless we got money to donate to there campaign funds... Damn this is really Spectacular!!
You brought tears to my eyes. I agree with "The fault lies not with this one man but with all of us". Love your ending,
"The wolves are closing in and the world will never be the same again.
It's just a matter of statistics ".
We have to stand together and chase away those wolves before they take us down one by one, start caring about each other to make our world a better place for all and not just for the ones on top. There is hope. Thank you Chloe.
Wow!! I freakin' L*O*V*E the opening paragraph of this story! N' this is one heavy-duty powerful piece of work, Chloe! Each scene is heartbreaking. The whole thing has a cinematic feel, like a camera swooping down on innocent lives....Gee, I can't say enough, this is FANTASTIC!!! ㋡
Chloe - wow, this is an incredible piece. correct some of your minor grammer errors and this is a piece of art. Makes me feel like a dizt. here I am writing goofy s**t and this young lady is creating newsweek articles. great job my friend.
wow" a matter of statistics, this is so real and identifying, i must say, the plot was gripping and makes the reader feel the naure of the meaning. sad, intriquing, and so very true chloe, i believe that is the essense behind this writing, truth and revelations, and the author not, he he, the clock is ticking?
that just may be the biggest scenerio playing just under the surface.
awsome job, certainly an intel reading and execution to ponder in light.
Madam President
Just kidding, but maybe not
The reason we are in the terrible
condition is because we have "let
the other guy do it". We made excuses for
not being involved. It seems to me that we
are coming down to the wire. We either get off
our duff and take part , or the entire system will
collapse. It is on the verge of collapse now.
So, Chloe, call on me and if I get a bright idea
I`ll call on you.
Sometimes i feel like an alien in a strange land..can you relate?
I love people and friends are just that to me , friends-if you request me as a friend it would be nice if you read something I have .. more..