We cannot speak
out-shouted by history
where we should cry
we bleed
We don't need self-pity that
wears itself out refusing cures
and cries "I hurt, so you
cannot cut me." before
wielding its own knife
But that is who we are
and what we have
our goodness murdered
with the past
We don't need people
who put their right to speak the truth
above the feelings of others,
but their own feelings above
the right of others to speak the truth
But this is what we do
Our policy of blame
will leave us innocent
and lonely
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Oh, this poem cuts deep. Wields its own knife I like very, very much. It does.
So so true.