The way i feel.

hope the way i feel brown jacket alpha centauri the sky freedom light at night the onset of winter who am i? unaquainted friends when you wake bruising

When a child is but an organ, have we simplified the matter too far?

Because all I see is a bleeding child, not an operation, or a precautionary procedure,

Not a solution, I see a problem.

I see ambitious eyes waiting to see the future.

I see broken dreams.

I see merciless murderers, hired killers. A day later, this would be a tragedy, to hands that would grasp a father?s finger, it is.

Unsightful disorder, mixed-up confusion, the beginning it should be but the end so close behind. These are the days of blood in the streets, young children all so gone. When will they see the light, when will they be allowed to see the light.

?