You never told me it was wrong to hate,
and you never acted like it was
until the days I showed opinions,
and then I learned you feared the worst.
Once houses have firmed their brick and mortar
it is awful hard to knock them down,
unless you would put them assunder
with tools and violent actions now.
I find it hard to understand the things
you taught me when I was younger, like
how lying and sneaking was alright
in defense of what is holy.
But when "right" and "wrong" seem to change, and at
different times mean different things,
you certainly failed as my parent
to instill completely the same;
where fear, not freedom, binds the conscience
and hatred finds itself a mother.
YOU ARE READING
Reflection
Poetry"I've been trying to put it to words, to collect those thoughts wholly, and to combine them singularly into an explanation--- Not an excuse. Not an apology. Not a proposal." From 'With You I'll Never Hang My Noose" My 2015...
