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Nov 2013
I don't think we're there yet, kids.
We haven't quite reached deep enough.
We haven't quite grazed the tallest stalagmite of the cave of their hearts,
and yet we act as though we've lived there all this time.
I merely listened, and the steam has worked my engine up,
and I created a monster that existed to be misunderstood.
An expression that has gone to ****.
And I apologize.
I apologize for not apologizing in the first place.
I apologize for not trying to make people understand.
I apologize for writing up a tragedy.
I apologize for writing off your right.
I apologize this all has gone to **** and
I apologize for I don't know how to fix it.
I apologize for being so ignorant
of all the throes of your little tongues.
You matter, too, just not to me, perhaps.
I apologize.
I'll go try to listen a little less and care a little more.
To those of you who are currently giving my friend a ****** time, please accept this poem as an offering. Not necessarily for peace (that's rarely what people want), but for silence.
Written by
Den  Manila
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