aptly we point fingers <br />at those unsuspecting <br />they cower beneath our assuming gaze. <br />to those who walk blindly, <br />shrouded pupils unseeing, <br />the world is felt in a tactile haze. <br /> <br />but open your eyes and look into the light: <br />there is little happiness on the earth. <br />what we find is a populous land of cowards. <br />what we see is but those oblivious from birth.<br /><br />Morgan Thompson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/complaint-to-the-higher-entities/
