Something Isolated

“Play the victim: keep silent”: so absurd; and nevertheless,
Words pierced a myriad of souls. But years spoke death;
And spirit gave voice; and I support such spirit; and I
Feel such pain. Clever eyes speak truth; and sour hearts,
Speak bias. Never such passion; and never such vision;
Thus, aflame—to sit and ponder. I beckon not joy; and
Pardon not strife; but filter ploys; and reckon grief. Such
Subtlety: a monthly stab; and such posture, a silent smile.
I fathom sport—the maze of love; and therapeutic, a filtered
Ruse; but something vile, plagues the soul; and something
Cold, speaks the night. Thus, the hurt, a mirror sharp; and
Thus, the ache, a whisper soft; for bleeding mind, a
Conscience rift; and tender heart, a self-contempt; thus, the
Truth, a raging force.