Nobody is equal.
You nod and clap and mumble your amens as I stand, washed out by the lone white light and my own fear, but you do not understand. The sands of time have whittled the human heart a cage of bones far more rigid than the ones of our origins. It's evolution, you see--when the world becomes larger we must become hard, carry the quivering deeper and deeper inside to keep our stone-ground weapon steady. The human race has fought so far that there are no sharpened rocks left, no, now our first line of offense is lightning accusations and green cloth-paper promises.
I have never known a world without push-button philosophy, without digital exposure and innocence lost long before thirteen, fourteen. In a way I was never clean, only quiet about what I had heard and seen, passed along secondhand from the mouths of my schoolmates into my caged heart with forming wings. I learned in a way I knew was never meant to be. "A victim of the digital age!" The wrinkles fall into frowns which fall into stern disapproval of all that is rapidly moving yet never seems to change.
But this is nothing all that strange. The world has made us hard and it has become heredity, children born from serenity into a decaying carcass filled past its limits, forever asking questions and there are only wrong answers. Wrong answers, wrong actions, wrong skin wrong face wrong sex wrong faith wrong existence. And the right answers flicker and change like visions.
Tell me that nobody is equal and I will shout "YES!" because we all know it deep within our unbreakable ribcages that there is no louder truth. Tell me who is not equal and I will fall silent. Because my answer is wrong.
You nod and clap and mumble your amens as I stand, washed out by the lone white light and my own fear, but you do not understand. The sands of time have whittled the human heart a cage of bones far more rigid than the ones of our origins. It's evolution, you see--when the world becomes larger we must become hard, carry the quivering deeper and deeper inside to keep our stone-ground weapon steady. The human race has fought so far that there are no sharpened rocks left, no, now our first line of offense is lightning accusations and green cloth-paper promises.
I have never known a world without push-button philosophy, without digital exposure and innocence lost long before thirteen, fourteen. In a way I was never clean, only quiet about what I had heard and seen, passed along secondhand from the mouths of my schoolmates into my caged heart with forming wings. I learned in a way I knew was never meant to be. "A victim of the digital age!" The wrinkles fall into frowns which fall into stern disapproval of all that is rapidly moving yet never seems to change.
But this is nothing all that strange. The world has made us hard and it has become heredity, children born from serenity into a decaying carcass filled past its limits, forever asking questions and there are only wrong answers. Wrong answers, wrong actions, wrong skin wrong face wrong sex wrong faith wrong existence. And the right answers flicker and change like visions.
Tell me that nobody is equal and I will shout "YES!" because we all know it deep within our unbreakable ribcages that there is no louder truth. Tell me who is not equal and I will fall silent. Because my answer is wrong.
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