Black and White and Sometimes GrayA Poem by PrototatoA spoken word about life
We are born with empathy. With the ability to feel, and therefore relate to how others feel.
We are born into a world that frowns upon feeling, frowns upon helping others and forces your hand against your better judgement and morals. It can morph them, alter them in ways that you couldn't imagine now and couldn't imagine without then. We are all made from the same thing, whether we're talking about living cells, protons and neutrons, or even based on whtaever stars made when they lost their extensive lives. And yet we can't seem to help one another. When many people see someone in need, they ignore it. They have to further their own goals before they can help anyone else. And then there are the few who can't fight the bond they feel with others, the need to help one another out. These people are few and far between, but when they see someone in need, they always help. When they see a student walking down the hall, their eyes dark and near-lifeless, hoping for one more spark to rekindle their flame, they feel the urge to go to them and give them a burning log to add to. But society itself has altered, and thus this aspect of life has, as well. Today, that student becomes lifeless. They become lifeless because giving them a burning log, or even a spark, means that your own fire would go out due to splashes of scorn and the spread of the viscous disease of depression. They're afraid to aide those who meed it badly. But there are the few who feel enough to want to help, to want to walk right up to that person, introduce themselves, and shove their kindling together - to share a passion with them. When they see those needy people, their instincts take over and their misery is shoved aside to make room for one more soul in their internal infirmary. Their passion easily reignites all around them, and the flames created spread as a wildfire of wonder, encouraging all. And then there are those who are willing to give all they have to boost the fire, but all they have is a bucket of water and problems that will not stay caged. So they pour the water on their own fire so they can use the bucket to make sparks for others. Their flames never to be rekindled, they go to as many people as they can before they run out of smoke and steam to keep running. Like me. © 2017 PrototatoFeatured Review
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Added on September 26, 2017Last Updated on September 26, 2017 AuthorPrototatoLittle Canada, MNAboutI'm an aspiring author of 16 years, and according to my family and friends, I have some sort of raw talent for it. Personally, I don't see it... What I DO see is my insanity. I'd love for your anal.. more..Writing
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