Broken Hand

I broke the hand
that sought me comfort

despised sympathy
when it was cloaked with 
a sense of duty

I smothered the voice
that attempted 
solace
as the words 
came from 
a hypocritical heart

I stand
yet in my heart
I kneel
to the humility
of knowing
my short comings

I need compassion
though pride
attacks against it
with defiance

Maybe the need 
to be a part of something
is overwhelmed
by the thirst for individuality 

Patriot bound
I find myself
loyal to my roots
while disgusted
with what with
we have become

History repeats itself
when we attempt to erase
or alter it

Lessons are learned
 not only from
our accomplishments
but from the shame
of the mistakes we made

Fools ignore truth
the wiseman embraces
failures

it is my hope 
one day soon
we as a nation
will recognize 
the difference