Dismayed by dirt, we sweep it under the rug.

Projecting our perceptions, they are our reality

Fearing the monster inside and the fear we think we will see

refusing to confront the possibility 

we retreat and inside and hide 

ourselves inside the mask of who we want to be.


The hope is that the truth will go away,

That by acting against we can change the habit.

We become and are the product of ourr actions. 

That impurity may recede behind the polished facet.

We hope that we won't become our fears--that proves

Our true colors, exposed with each new rachet.


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