By Andrew R. Duckworth
Sometimes, I’m inclined to believe
We are the ones that we deceive,
With bitter hate within our being,
Looking down to keep from seeing
That we are the ones that we deceive.
Sometimes, I’m a bit confused
At how we wish to be abused
Because we never live and let live,
God forbid we decide to forgive
Because we wish to be abused.
Sometimes, I’m shaken to my core
At how there’s no love anymore
Because we only love to hate
And then decide to contemplate
Why there’s no love anymore.
Sometimes, I lie sleep deprived
Because of notions we’ve contrived
That safety rings better than being free
And that some faces we shouldn’t see
Because of notions we’ve contrived.