Scrolling through my Facebook feed, I ran across two photos. Juxtaposed to each other, they made me stop and think. The first:
The first picture is more elegant in it’s presentation of an idea, but the second is simpler in language and harsher with it’s grotesque imagery. At first, I completely threw out the second picture as valuable in any way because of the way it’s message was presented. But I think, in a way, it’s grittiness is what gives it it’s power. It may not be the most creative poem, but it gets the point across; people slander out of jealousy. Yeah. I get it.
Where has the first writer gone? Where has the truism, the hope gone? And where is that fluid beauty that is scribbled out from heart to hand, hand to pen and pen to page vanished to? I hope that there are writers out there clinging to passion and awakening in cold sweats, instead of band-wagoning into Seventeen Magazine stream.