I have to accept the fact that we as a people believe that someone “has to” come and speak for us. That someone has to lay it all on the line for us, too, that someone should find us worthy enough to die for. For every man who has challenged death or even illiteracy to help mankind unveil of miseducation I appreciate you. Although I accept the former sometimes, I accept all of the time that we are actually unfit to die for. And most certainly unworthy of teaching for the anguish of our will to be ignorant.
Finger pointers and depression mocking reptiles slithers amongst us just hissing and backbiting their fellow brothers and sisters. Cheapened imitations of love equivalent to knock-off clothing breeds fake friends and untrustworthy people today. If it seems real than who would notice that it has no authenticity? Well, we who goes through our storms with our heads held high will know.
Not a soul who feared not landing the plane of their bodies on a strip of burial ground had to. Not a song writer, a book writer, a lesson writer or a freedom writer had to. But they did it anyway. And each of them who chose to bear your crosses were spit in the faces of and laughed at by you. The same faces that hoped to bring hope over the states of mankind’s miseries.
Check yourselves and stop wrecking the train that latches each car of struggle to its own engine. Stop detailing the modesty of life’s true heroes and fighters with your low esteems of knowing that you should be willing to live and die for yourselves.