Dying In Cold Silence Poem by Andrea Lopez

This poem is the epitome of why humanity created poetry in the first place. This is a primitive a poem as one can muster. Like the last line in MLK's last speech, of the last hours, on the last night of his life.

This poem is the epitome of why humanity creates poetry in the first place. This is a primitive a poem as one can muster. Of course, on that note, being a avid student of Joseph Campbell (The Hero's Journey) , you can never really have lived of you weren't willing to die first. It's the ultimate strength (I hate this religion personally) , see; Jesus; MLK's last speech; Gandhi's fasts; Gitmo hostages. It's too much for all the zombies around you to absorb, so all they can do is control, what they fear, that strange fruit you bare. Plus, by this poem, pills would only wound your poems. Peace out.