Born like this
Into these carefully mad wars
Into the sight of broken factory windows of emptiness
Into bars where people no longer speak to each other
Into fist fights that end as shootings and knifings
Born into this
Into hospitals which are so expensive that it’s cheaper to die
Into lawyers who charge so much it’s cheaper to plead guilty
Into a country where the jails are full and the madhouses closed
Into a place where the masses elevate fools into rich heroes
We are all in this together. In boxes. We live in a time where we are mere numbers. We are labelled according to our passport numbers, identity card numbers, student ID numbers, even this blog account is just a number. We live in boxes. Our boxes are numbered. We work in a box, to earn the right to live, as well as wait to die, in a box. When it comes to die, we hope that we worked and saved enough for a box (which is numbered) to be buried in.
So you see, we are all the same. We are just numbers. Why should there be a you and a me? We live in the same world. Yet there are distinctions and lines and borders, put there by people, to differentiate you and me. There are different forms of numbers, just to distinguish a different group of numbered humans. You are a foreigner. You don’t belong here. What is here? What is there?
If we are all trapped in this numbers-boxes-maze, then we are all in this together. Shouldn’t we just let go of all this distinctions, and just be kinder to each other?