“The Wild, the Civilized”

If the wild is so dangerous,

why do animals live long—

until nature calls them home?

And yet I claim to be civilized—

why then do I act so inhumane?

If the wild is cruel,

how did beasts once outnumber us?

I say I’m peaceful,

but human hands have slain

more souls than any predator.

The crocodile weeps before its meal,

but I strike without warning—

destroy,

then celebrate the death of another.

Does life mean nothing?

I gasp for air

like one buried beneath the earth.

The only sounds I hear

are falling stones,

and the tears of war’s forgotten.

Soon, we'll gather—

in polished rooms, behind fragile treaties,

to speak of peace.

But the scars remain,

while hunger and hatred

slip between our words.

Your voice speaks reconciliation,

but all I feel

is revenge blooming in my chest—

the last hope

I can still believe in.

If I must left go, I need healing.

Someone to pay for their crime 

With a little bit of redemption