π’±π‘œπ’Ύπ’Έπ‘’ π’ͺ𝒻 𝒯𝒽𝑒 π’Ÿπ’Ύπ“ˆπ‘’π“ƒπ’»π“‡π’Άπ“ƒπ’Έπ’½π’Ύπ“ˆπ‘’π’Ή

Insight, Poem, Poetry, thoughts, Uncategorized

The dreams of a young idealist, how brutal and cold this world can be.

How firm and resolute it’s grip may stay, with each passing day my ideals decay.

Since long I’ve denounced religion, yet my state remains, so in this state, I find I pray.

β€˜If an answer exists let it be revealed, if ignorance is bliss, then a burden it is. But, if happiness is this, I want no part.’

A young idealist, for years to come, I’ll walk my path, a lonely one.

I’ll keep this hope, if only that,

to speak truth to power and understand that actions are neither static nor binary.

Understand that without friction there is no change and during those times I pray;

β€˜Though my existence is not perfect, I live in peace, with shelter and hope, the chance to dream. And oh to the extent to which I am free, if my freedom is lynched to the infringement of that of others, then is it not our duty to speak for our Sisters and Brothers?’

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