Look into their eyes. Eager, wanting to know. Wanting to know what they got themselves into. Fresh faces, years before the first wrinkle. Blank slates hanging on our every word. Each time, a clean slate pregnant with potential. Each time, A new opportunity. Each time, we let them down. We let them down by filling them up with our superstitions, our fears, our prejudice, our ignorance. Each time, we hand them to the future shackled, blinded. Each time we must do better. Humanities future depends on it.
Little lady only 13. Never pretty enough but smart as can be. No friends just books. Mom overworked so no dinner just lonely. She was bullied for years: isolated in insecurity, abandonment, and unhappiness until she was 17. Senior year
One time above a little shop, An old greengrocer climbed on top, Despite himself he could not stop, The world had changed forever. The fruit of that old grocers loins, Became obsessed with notes and coins, She knew the club
The world is a race If you want to succeed, pick up your pace Keep running, focus, put in extra hours, fly solo But doesn’t this make you feel empty and hollow? Be yourself, be silly, be alive, spread joy