We Are People, As Similar Lands
To think of this like so,
what do people have,
that makes them akin to others,
but also different?
Difference,
there is many,
but really on a narrow way,
we are all the same.
We have a past that is a mix bag.
Just as the present and future.
We see the world as we want to.
Agree or don’t.
Beliefs or chances match to that of static or change.
Even if we are inches,
miles,
yards,
oceans apart.
We are all the same.
It’s funny in a strange way,
of how there been so many people,
who have made that statement and a good fraction,
turn a blind eye to it.
Even if one,
was seen as a piece of land,
there are still thing akin to humans.
There is blood to run the body,
as people run a city or country.
There is that of young,
that redesign the heart.
A mind that is wise up in age;
mirrors those of elders that guide the young,
yet return,
do the same.
It is just a sadness of small things;
tend to misguide others at time,
which only ranges as time passes.
Fiction and non of one being,
communing with ideals,
having followers,
mixing life as it comes,
for better or worst.
A tangled marriage of life it became.
We are people,
but treated as similar to land that all;
tread on.
Claim by all and only a few,
to those who have no say.
If one was to answer how life was way back,
the response will never be clear,
for it sound very similar to another.
We are people, in thoughts,
centuries apart,
but on land,
in realty,
the same.
Only blinded,
yet we feel it,
hear it,
taste it,
but can’t comprehend it by sight.
For it makes all too real.
Fiction is fine,
but for how long,
until without,
even knowing,
fiction mocks realty?
What then?
Forget we are people on similar lands,
or embrace it?
When will the former at times,
be forgotten,
so war becomes:
likely as an was and not so much an is.
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