That Social Fever

I feel hurt;
like two vandals

and a windowpane.

I feel scorned;

like catching fevers 

without their long

found names, but it's

we who write the stories;

the walls will whisper for us,

without consent, and without remorse,

and they'll call,

until the neighbors watch you.

 

 

And in the wrong,

they tell you they're right,

and words are gonna burn,

just wait until they turn

and run from all

that you know,

and they'll say,

"Shame on you;

because without you,

no one would ever

master the truth."...