An Argument

When the mind's disease is hate, it flows through veins unchecked. I'm just a voice in the midst of darkness, striking a match. A light for minds seeking refuge from storms, to lift a crying child above the swollen stream, that may sweep us away. People are angry, the Earth shakes, lightning flashes, a child cries, crowds move as rivers, their murmuring sounds become louder. Confusion fills cups they carry, fear fills lung's every breath, between rage and reason. Demons rise to shackle the fragile soul, bringing evil from those claiming purity. Frightened hearts beat louder at the source, bubbling from wells of self-righteousness, marching in step with flags unfurled, demanding all follow their graveled path. A scythe they wield sweeps, cutting the marrow of all who question. The multitude moves swiftly, confiscating freedom in freedom's name. Who dare stands, to lift the crying child from the crowd's grasp? Giving hope, from madness. as the stalk of democracy burns brown, withering from a drought of common sense. While a mob demands to rule.