Appreciation, or Lack Thereof

Step Step Step Down the staircase, crowded and loud. "How was your weekend?" My eyes shift to scan the scene of the speaker and the directee of the question. "Whatcha up to tonight?" Same motion. "Oh my God, I broke a nail!" The last remark makes me turn my head. Looking upon a teenage girl, bright silky haired, Blue eyed, scantily clad, Faced covered with makeup that masks her inner beauty With her overbalancing outer beauty. Yet while she weeps in despair for her Sliver of a crack in her fingerplate, Yonder sisters mourn upon the loss of their brother, who was A brave sacrifice in the resistance against Terror. Acquaintances gather at the church from far off lands, Like a whirlpool swirling toward the center, To celebrate a life. Yet while people in black proceed in the service Dropping flowers into the casket, Yonder bullets like saws mow down trees in My Lai On the 16th of March; Passer bys will notice some 400 pillars fallen over Into a mudpit for them to lie. And how can we forget When old Joe Stalin said, One death is a tragedy; A million is a statistic. And how can we forget Auschwitz, And Nanking, And Darfur? Despite all, we still seek immediately aid for a papercut with Utmost urgency – While young Anne Frank would have died to be able to pray, Was all that ailed her.