I want to live in a world where children can eat from their pots,
Without hearing the sound of gunshots.
I want to live in a world where women are not afraid of the night,
They can keep their keys and knuckles out of sight.
I want to live in a world where everyone has a place to call home,
Instead of looking for an empty area to roam.
I want to live in a world where people can hold the hand of who they love,
Without being sneered, pushed or shoved.
I want to live in a world where people are able to speak,
Without feeling helpless or weak.
I want to live in a world where people are judged by their thoughts within,
Not by the colour of their skin.
And to be judged what's in their head, not what's on their head.
I want to live in a world where everyone is happy for who they are,
And not wishing they were someone else from afar.
About the Creator
Chidimma Benjamin
A black cynical nerd with opinions and poetry. Don't be shy, drop a tip. Preferably $20.
Keep reading
More stories from Chidimma Benjamin and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Reluctant Reporter
"You can't send me!" "There is no-one else. It's you or no-one, and that is not an option." Ameera looked at the fat paunch and florid face of her boss, a man who lived for the story and the kudos it brought him but who rarely gave consideration to the people behind the drama. When had he become so hard? She reckoned that by the end of the year, he'd be dead, collapsed from a heart attack and she struggled to conjure any sympathy in that moment and instantly felt ashamed at displaying the same lack of compassion that he had.
By Rachel Deeming8 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.