Why are people worth more in death than in life?
I wonder, would I be loved and understood more when I'm dead than I am now?
Like Van Gogh's paintings, would my opinions be worth more when I'm no longer there to state them?
Would people slowly forget my flaws, my faults, mistakes and only remember the good?
Would they cry for me and finally be dying to give me a hug?
Would they want to take back all the cruel words, the coldness they showed me, would they regret?
Why can't people be towards the living as they wish they had been towards the dead...
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Fighting injustice is an endless battle that can't be won, but speaking up is the beginning of making a cruel world tolerable.
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