implicit bargains, determining
where our sympathies lie —
the half-truths and non-truths we accept
as tribal membership, full-knowing
the weapons we wield will one day
be used against us.
being wounded never made anyone right,
it just made arguing with them
off-limits; similarly, we look to
loneliness to hallow our desires,
finding only afterwards that
hearing no criticism doesn’t mean
having no regrets —
we use science to justify
our failings while censuring others, and
we choose moral sides without
real knowledge of specifics, but
our sympathies lie because
we do
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Tagged: Tags Poetry
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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