The wolves are at our doors, they are growling and snarling, biting at our heels. We don't notice... we're too busy living our lives ... Off in the distance a child cries as his mother beats him while his father smokes crack and looses touch with a reality he can't face. The child is six , under- nourished , quite, with big brown eyes that keep a look of constant terror. His only crime , being born. What shall become of this little boy so alone , hopeless , friendless. Who cares about another black child from the inner city ? Who cares about his mother , herself a victim of abuse. Who cares of his father , lost in depression and despair. His only love.. the dirty white chunks of cocaine he smokes from a pipe he stole at the tobacco store when the clerk wasn't looking . Who cares? Who ? A few statistic's . Across town a young girl sits in her room surounded by her lavish pocessions staring at the ceiling . Wishing her mother would give her a hug and say, " I love you." Her mother is the head of the annual country club fund raiser, appearances are important to her. Her daughter is an embarrasment. Her daughter has bulimia. Her daughter cuts her skin to feel. Just to feel something , she has never felt love , she has everything but love. Who cares about another rich white girl who cuts herself to feel. Who? Who cares about an affulent white woman who's idea of success is measured by status and appearances . She grew up in a loveless home wearing her sister's hand me down's now she gives her Ralph Lauren and Donnatelli to the local Salvation Army. Who cares about this woman ? A woman who never knew anything but struggles in life . In her warped thinking she thinks pocession's and social status equal love . Who cares? Another statistic. In a small suburb in middle America a young boy of sixteen is about smoke his first hit of crystal meth. His mom and dad smoke marijuanna with him , so its cool . So at the urging of his friends he takes that first hit and is forever chasing that feeling lost in a world of paranoia and destruction . Who cares about another meth addcit who's parents are too busy getting high to notice their son is nothing but bones, anger and nerves with track marks on his thin arms , who cares? Another statistic. Across the sea in a city called Baghdad a young woman of 24 looks at a photograph of her child. She joined the Army to make a better life for her only child. She didn't want her child to struggle and wear hand me downs and eat lunch with the free lunch passes that always embarrased her as she handed the card to the woman , with her eyes downcast. The food always tasted bitter , she could barely swallow it. So to the Army she went when she graduated because she couldn't afford college and no one would give her a student loan. Her baby was a year old when she graduated . Now she sets in a strange land with sand blowing around her blurring her already blurred teary vision as she hears gunfire in the near distance , a tear fall's on the picture of the babe she so longs to hold close and smell , a fellow soldier fall's to his death Who cares about this woman who was only trying to make a better life for her fatherless child? Who cares? Who cares for this babe who misses her mommy every day and doesn't understand why she doesn't come home who cares? Who cares about the young man of twenty - one just married six months dreaming of one day working with his dad in his dad's auto repair shop so he can buy his wife a nice house . Who cares that he lies on foreign soil as his life force seeps into the land's desert sands and he gasps his last breath . Who cares?? A couple of statistic's . In another land far away men sit in secret places and plot against their enemies as they prepare for Holy War. America is evil and must fall. These men have been taught from the day they could say their first word to hate America and all she stood for so hate they do, and they do it well and it shows Who cares about the men and the evil in their hearts? Who cares? Just statistics . In a city in America in a house thats white a man sits in the oval office and wonders how and what has happened with a war he concieved before he ever entered the sacred office. A war he thought would be over and out in a few months , does he care ? Does he feel the pain a young wife feel's when the man walks to her door in uniform to inform her her husband with the crooked smile and dancing eyes will not be coming home to work with his dad ? Does he feel the pain of the mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers and friends and lovers and crack babies and crack whores and drug addicts and millionaires and bums, and gays , straights , black , white , red yellow , brown , albino , freckled , flawed , perfect , sane , insane , does he feel the pain ? He has a job to do he has an agenda. The fault lies not with this one man , but with all of us . From here to Timbuktu and all points in between. From the people of all the colors of the rainbow , all walks of lives , do we care ?.. and if we do care what can we do ? We are just one man or one woman . ? What good is one voice? Just another statistic. The wolves are closing in and the world will never be the same again. It's just a matter of statistics . © 2008 Chloe..Across the Universe ShareThis Share Writer Stats Related MySpace Bulletin Share on MySpace Facebook Friendster Orkut Hi5 Wordsy Add to Library Bookmark Story Email to Friends Link [more]

I swim just below the surface Not too far down Just far enough No one notices I hide here coming up for air When Whenever My lungs feel full and bursting The tide Comes and sweeps me away From the world In which I feel Alien Once I walked upon Earth in Sunlight It shone around me like a halo bright and brilliant Golden I could breathe free I could feel, touch, smell The world was azure Lavender tinted I fell down into an Abyss I was struck by Darkness The Darkness envelpoed me in its cloak of electric Black velvet I longed for the darkness and the embrace As I waited beneath a Blood red Moon I could again touch, smell, feel, the Darkness bruised my face Darkness When did I fall under your spell that I could not dispel As the Darkness faded The Water invited me soft and salty Like a Teardrop I swim here Just under the surface I need to I should come up for Air The Water is withering , withering me away away Away like a little boys lost kite Flown into the Sky Not gone , perhaps, Perhaps lost in transition I think the sky is falling There is no place to hide Unless the Water can protect me from its blow Maybe it can Maybe it can do this Go back to sleep Swimming so deep Against the Tide Which is no No Prince at all Yet it still takes my breath away