Look at us, slogging
through the muck
we made
ourselves,
Trying to keep the filth
from the finely tailored suit,
the Cadillac,
The little black cocktail dress
and the helicoptered children.
Some of us hold fast to dreams,
more important than life itself.
Grasping at galaxies,
the reaching holds the glory.
Peace is not just the absence of war.
It’s a dream we all have,
but when we wake up,
We still find hate is easier.
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