Will we be honest to our faults
Or will we let them tame us Whittle us down to a redundant grouse And unname us Spitting images of spitting cobras Hooded and reflexively defensive We aim for the eyes with our venom And we hiss How small we are in this Shriveling ourselves with our hatred Unapproachable and unaware While our own poison degrades us We let our own faults go nameless So they swallow us gradually Till in the blind dark our spit runs empty And we sputter into silence Comments are closed.
|
AuthorI write to process. I write to explore. I write with the hope of sharing truth greater than my own. Archives
February 2022
Categories |