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A prose poem about the hate and pain caused by others claiming innocence who are guilty. |
| When we beat our drums With the loudest, most vile displeasure, We are likely cognizant of the most dismal And disconcerting acts Of our cohorts and compatriots - What these unwise and heartless fools Deem certain and proper Can simply rob us of our just peace and sanity And bring our sacrilegious blood to a boil, Rankling our indiscriminate souls For all eternity. Though we likely know these frequent and repeated mishaps Are not any of our own fault or misdoings, We are rancorously shackled And must endure further, appalling treachery; And we learn that these malignant sisters and brothers Bear an unabashed and tragic guilt Which no one can, or ever will, disguise, Despite their plaintive pleas to the contrary... |