6.The Things I Hate
It's the sin not the sinner I'd insisted out loud to keep my
hands clean
But the line often blurred when it was there at all, often
disappearing
In church cushions where I couched my blame and distaste for
everything challenging
Progress on a path, simple in syntax, but complex and
constraining
And draining
Soon circles of hell emptied out and refilled with lies of our
history
Corporate control, leaders and their thrones, I accused and
found guilty
From a place far away where my cluster bomb blame I'd watch
detonating
Removed from the stain of blood, the tattered remains of all
that I hate
Until nothing remained and I was alone
With a the feeling that I've gone about this entirely wrong
Is it too late to fight for a simpler struggle
To forget that I'm me, to forget if I'm right, and cling to the
subtle
Breathe in the ring, the harmonizing of different voices saying
different things
Is it better to forget the words or to never sing？
I've always been good at finding the problems with everyone else
That's the main problem that I have with myself
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