Current Track: Blabb
KEYBOARD SHORTCUTS

I think about revenge most every day.

I pray for it, to it. I draw its eye.

I hive its hissing hornets in my heart.

I wear its mask and mantle. People say

They do not understand how you can live

Like that. No more do I! Yet nonetheless

I must live like that somehow. People say

That you need to forgive, to turn the cheek,

When what they really mean is that they would

Prefer it if you did forgive, prefer

That you should turn your cheek. And people say

To let go before vengeance eats your soul.

And right they would be, if we all were rich

And lived in paradise, and never died.

I think about revenge most every day.

For aye, revenge will gladly eat your soul.

But no more so than will despair, than grief,

Than keeping silent as the fatted take,

And oppress, and exploit, and gravely say

That we must all try harder not to take,

Than wondering what it feels like to be safe,

To call for help and have that help appear,

To be defended. Is it any worse

To feed your soul to vengeance, than to these?

At least revenge gives something in exchange

More than the moral high ground. For what good

Has moral high ground ever done for you?

You cannot plant a crop or build a house

On moral high ground. All they do up there

Is crucify you. Those you leave behind

Will think about revenge most every day.

How can they not? At least revenge will say

That wrong was wrong, and justice was not done.

Is that not all that most of us can hope?

No, it should not be so, but there it is.

We are not rich. We live in this far land

Beneath the trees, and not in paradise.

And ere we die, we think about revenge

Because what else are we supposed to do?