It’s really funny how other people see others when it comes to different skin colors or ethnicities. When I look back in history and see how whites treated blacks, it makes me fell so disgusted. I mean, so what if we are not all the same skin color, we are still all human beings, are we not?!
It makes no sense how humans can treat other humans so inferior based on their race... And the funny thing? Racism and segregation are still practiced today. Martin Luther King Jr. would be so infuriated by this :(
Everyday, there are children who die of malnutrition or starvation. They also spend each day wondering when they will receive their next meal. No child should have to live like that. The death rates are apalling in some countries. For instance, in Africa, a child dies of starvation every 2 minutes. Something needs to be done to lessen these bitter statistics. If interested, there`s a program to help raise money for starving children across the globe.
It`s called 30-hour famine. My church does it every year. The website is www.30hourfamine.org If we all work together, we can ALL end world hunger.
Nobody said anything was easy. but, at the same time, you can`t just expect simplicity to be fed to you with a spoon. you have to work a little hard to get somewhere.
You may not agree as of now however, you will thank me in the end when all your hard work has payed off. :)
Here is a poemIi found that explains the bitter irony of war:
Do not weep maiden, for war is kind. Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky and the affrighted steed ran on alone, do not weep. War is kind.
Hoarse, booming drums of the regiment, little souls who thirst for fight, these men were born to drill and die. The unexplained glory flies above them, Great is the battle-God great, and his kingdom-A field where a thousand corpses lie. Do not weep babe, for war is kind.
Because your father tumbled in the yellow trenches, raged at his breast, gulped and died,do not weep. War is kind.
Swift blazing flag of the regiment, eagle with crest of red and gold,these men were born to drill and die. point for them the virtue of slaughter, make plain to them the excellence of killing and a field where a thousand corpses lie.
Mother whose heart hung humble as a button on the bright splendid shroud of your son, do not weep. War is kind.