no need to get deep
no need for true confessions
we've all had our short hairs
caught on something
and you know something's up
when a zealot climbs up
a very high soapbox to pluck
such low-hanging fruit as condemnation
and the only ones quaking are those
of muddled fear and no courage
enough to show the charlatan
the way to his noose
oh everyone wants everyone else's blood
especially the weak of brute strength
taking from the strong humility
of those who would detach from the arena
why say any of this when in the end
a grave divides and seals our endeavors
tell me then what worth your earnest vanity
tell me what confession heals all
better still tell me nothing
and know I'll do as much for you
Content (c) 2008-2014 Philip Milito. All rights reserved.
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