I always dreamed that my life would be like it is in books.
Little did I know that would later come true.
It’s not quite what I imagined, though.
I did not imagine a government that was poisoned with hatred.
I did not imagine people’s rights being taken away one by one.
I did not imagine a dictatorship taking over the supposed “land of the free.”
When I wished for life to be like a story, I never meant a dystopian one.
Posted in response to the challenge Democracy & Ethics – Writing.
You were supposed to be different.
The one that I didn’t have to give up on.
Someone that I could rely on.
But I turned my back and you chose her.
She who wounded me with words and threatened to do worse.
Cursed.
Am I cursed?
Cursed to tie myself to people, swearing that they’re going to be different.
Only for resentment to grow like ivy, sentencing me to a place of discontent.
I’ve called it paranoia.
When I think of the color green, I think of the trees behind my school. In kindergarten, when kids were cruel and words hurt more than sticks or stones, the trees were there.
Comments
Well said. Especially now, keep writing
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