Where is the love?

Person no. 1

I sat on my front porch and stared at the melting sunset, wishing with all the strength that I had left in me that I could appreciate this scenery without anxiety gnawing on my heart like a starved rat,but it was no use. He was going to come back from work, and whatever had made him angry during his day, he would lash onto me. I closed my eyes, trying my best to yeild from the tears that were desperate to be set free, desperate to run loose and wild, causing my face to dampen, wearing out my eyes with the pityful spending of salty water. The radio that I had turned on was blaring nosiely in the background, but I wasn't really listning, I was just walowing in my own misrey, waiting for him to get home so I could recieve the first blows. Without my realising, my ears tuned into a new song that had just come on the radio, the words seemed to echo around me, floating by like hidden messages to the heart.

"People killin', people dyin'
Children hurt and you hear them cryin'
Can you practice what you preach
And would you turn the other cheek

Father, Father, Father help us
Send some guidance from above
'Cause people got me, got me questionin'
Where is the love (Love)"

Right then and there, I felt like I had found a small clue to my problem, I felt a sense of relief,as if the worlds burden had removed a small load, it may have been small, but at least something was being removed. I just had to find the missing love, and the father who seemed to be holding it.

Person no. 2

Gray walls. That was all I saw, every single day of my life, I saw gray lifeless walls, surrounding me, holding me captive, imprisoning me. I was the lowest form of human known to mankind, a criminal, and for my careless and dangerouas ways, I was sent to this cell, as what I felt was eternal punishment. I sighed heavily, bending forward to switch on the tiny radio they had given me, I switched it on, hoping it would fill the empty scilence that hung suspended in the air. I lay back on my hard, coarse bed, and began to think, of what I had become and had once been.

The words came bursting out of the radio player, and hit me, I felt my eyes water a little as the song continued, all my life I had been looking for love, but I had tried to find it the wrong way, now look at where I am. Slowly rotting in prison. I turned over to my side and let the tears fall. Where is the love?

Person no. 3

The bounce of a ball thumps on the black tarmarc as I sit on the corner of the road, watching the children my age play football (soccer) without any concern for me. I tightned my jacktet, as an unwanted gust of wind blew past, the ball that the children where playing with lost control and came soaring over to my corner, hiting me square in the face, and falling into my shrivelled hands. One of the children started walking towards me, a black boy with a pinched face. I stood up, and walked forward, holding the ball at arms length. "This belongs to you" I muttered, wishing my accent wasn't so evident. The boy's face broke into a bone chilling smile, he stepped forward, but with more menace. "Suppose you can't try to steal tit now with all eyes on you! Go back to where you came from Paki!!" He yelled, shoving me with great force against the cold hard wall behind me. The other children behind him howled in laughter, as he took off running back to his group of friends. I didn't move for a few minutes, letting the words sink in, then I began to walk away, my head bent in shame.

On my home, the sound of a rather loud radio blared from a passing shop,

I stopped in my tracks, and continued listining to the song, wondering at the same time why there was no love in this western world, and thinking why I could only be judged by the color of my skin, and the thickness of my accent. I shook my head vividly and stepped forward, continuing my walk home.

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