CLAY
Undated, 2021
We have evolved into the perfect herd animal. Even our self-proclaimed sense of self is not of ourself.
How can you claim to be you as you sit there, clay, in the hands of another?
I have reached a state where I no longer abhor my fellow man/woman. I pity them. As condescending as that may seem, it is the right emotion, I believe. The only one I am left with, anyway, for I cannot be sad for them. I will not.
Does mankind’s failings truly reflect upon all of mankind?
We’re lost. Can we find ourselves again?
