Writing

“There’s a girl that walks with her arms full.
Full of clothes.
Full of technology.
Full of materialistic items.
She passes by the elderly and the young.
They reach out to her in comfort.
Merely wanting to be held.
To be talked to.
To be loved on.
To be played with.
The young girl’s burden is hefty
And she doesn’t dare put it down.
So instead, it blocks her view.
Shields her from the potential love
That she could be receiving.
Blocking her from loving those that need it.
She has no more room
To pick up compassion
and love
and mercy.
So instead
She walks over those items.
Eventually, this girl is going to trip.
She’s going to lose all of the possessions
That she’s holding on to so tightly.
She’ll be at a loss
for those possessions were comfortable
in her arms
She knew who she was
and now she doesn’t.
She’ll soon find
that those arms she strayed from
full of compassion and mercy
are reaching out to her, yet again.
Her burden is light now.
The compassion she stepped over
She can pick up.
For she is free.
Free of those materialistic items.
This girl
This young girl
is America.”

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