If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And

if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?

--William Shakespeare.

Crimson stained ground and blood tainted rope,

The memories of ones who were scared,

Our ancestor's suffering, passed down like a fable,

There unbroken pain is declared.

But the voice is broken, impared.

For the past has been scribed in the pages of time,

But far from the sheets that we turn.

We cannot forget the centuries past,

But forgive, and start a new page.

Because the world will notice the burn.

Not to detest, but to learn.

Difference shredding the wish of forgiveness,

Blame brings remorse, hate bringing fear.

We think that one bad turn deserves another,

And if the circle proceeds,

Where shall we travel from here?

Answers are leaving, questions are near.

Instead of a hand of friendship,

We offer the hand of hate.

Unsettled disputes take us further away,

From the world that we crave.

Stubbornness etching our fate.

In a world of forever, it's never too late.

Will you take the first step?

Let no tears wash away pain.

Because in a world of such difference.

We all are the same.

Each so unique, but uniquely the same.