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One Small Voice

“All these people need us.. Require us..” I whisper to crowd at my doorstep

Rain covers everything, coating us in it’s hushed conversation, it’s assumed ownership matches my attitude as my words penetrate the ears of the proletariat. My fellow men. Like my ideas, the rain sinks into their passion filled eyes as I spout the lies of a thousand generations, the greatest deception.

“They require our blood..” I whisper louder gaining conviction “They require our will, our numbers, our force!”

My voice is a shout now, as the intensity of the rains infinitesimal onslaught increases in strength and magnitude, my two fists blazing hammers of passion rising to the sky as my words spill forth easily.

“We’re constantly represented as a mere beast of burden! The mindless force that powers the cogs of this dying machine! For true equality, We must be united! We must be strong! We must be..”

“Socialists.” A radical shouts from the back, lighting his cigar.

And from there, things quickly spiraled out of control..

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