I am as myopic as I am
short-sighted in my opinions
but I see clearly in the end.
I have never known something
so broken that it fails to mend…
Some people will never see at all
with a preference to blame their
foulness upon Adams’ fall
And yet, I try to count my blessings
and it is a hard habit to get into
A certain melancholia descends
like dew laden clouds on late summer fields
as I dwell upon the years that the locusts of limitation
have blighted…
and my wasted faith in gods of my own making
chastising myself with a mental birch
for being so benighted
leaving the faithful and trusting on their knees
shaking their heads in a silent church
If I had my time again, I would be terrified
For every lesson learnt,
there are five unaccounted for;
for every martyr of morality burnt,
I must cower on the floor
and looking away,
I will claim innocence.
Benighted
