Snowflake

mothertheresa
You can smell it in the breeze.
Screams.
Blood.
Fire.
The aroma of despair,
The scent of greed,
The odor of selfish desire.

Uneducated masses,
Inbred and
Sitting on their asses,
Wallowing in filth,
Whose answers
Always involve a gun.
Who
Pave their roads in hate,
Then call it Christian love;
While calling those who oppose,
Snowflakes,
And Special ones.

If compassion and love,
Make me a snowflake,
Understand
That means I am not just one.
I am a million holy hands
Ready to bring down an avalanche,
To shut down your system,
To disrupt this dysfunction,
To stop the thriving of scum.

We are done with your shit.
We’ve done it your way.
Let us show you
What can be done
With a little hope,
And a lot of love.

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About Z.

Poetic pipe and cigar enthusiast rifling through the haunted memories of a not so distant past while openly wrestling with faith and God. A rambling writer with the misguided notion that he has something to say. His only redeeming qualities are his wife and children.
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One Response to Snowflake

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