Holding on to the broken shards
Of our respective versions of truth
We ceaselessly hurl them at one another.
We never think to stop
To notice the cuts we inflict.
Who can tell who the true prophets are
With so many claiming to be as much?
Lost in an endless debate of values,
There are no answers in sight.
All we do is fight.
So I’ll take my shard of truth
And you take yours.
We’ll scratch each other’s eyes out
Until we can no longer see each other.
Oozing blood,
Festering lesions,
Angered souls:
Any way you look at it,
We all lose.
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