We can mold our fingers to a trigger.
We can hate with our words until we’re killing.
We can damn the dawn and fail the living.
But love still shines in a baby’s smile,
arms still lift when a soul cries,
and music still bridges the political divide.
If the pieces fall, we can mend.
If hope is dim, we can be a candle.
If the peace song is unwritten, there’s still time for
ink.
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