We Are Worse
The slight indention of joy and
The slow protrusion of pain
Does dare to outweigh
The imminence of our own immortality
Our emotions hold all sway
These frailties are our foundations
All placed crudely upon a bed of sand!
As we allow these perversions
To erase our peripherals,
We create in and of ourselves this
Tunnel vision that can't be corrected
We look up to the heavens
Shake our fists, point our fingers
As if there's someone else to blame!
What about us? What have we done
To allow ourselves the right to accuse?
We create our own pain, our own hate
And you want to weasel out of it all?
You have put Him on trial
And charged Him with your own crime!
Your allegations stem from deceit!
For we are worse than those we accuse.
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