Me, What I Want

 We have become accustomed to prophets.

Their voices are so many, so much we can't hear.

Because we are also the prophet, we have a voice.

Hear, hear we cry, for our own cause our own hurt.

We forget the other, we have forgotten sacrifice.

No one knows how to compromise, to give a little.

Because we are dependent on one another.

Understanding is a two way street, is there a care?

Where have you gone, will we wander insistent?

Dying in our own ignorance of helping, surrender.


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