I count the stars,
splattered across the black marble counter,
waiting for something.
Waiting for the light of morning,
waiting for some meaning,
waiting to see something more.
I stare at the light of the moon,
hoping that innocence still exists,
hoping that there is something we have yet to destroy,
hoping that there is something left untouch by hate,
untouched by envy,
untouched by pride.
I count every beat of my heart,
feeling it pound against my chest wishing,
wishing that wars would end,
wishing that peace could exist,
wishing that acceptance was universal.
How many people do we have to see
in vain, as a result of political disarray.
How many people have to be
just so we can make ourselve feel that we have some worth.
Hoe many people will suffer through
because of the world's ignorance.