Wounds That Never Heal

Narcissus, by Caravaggio. 1596




The world is turning inward
In the most bizarre of ways
— Politically


The most communal and
The most public
And connected

Of all pursuits

Is beset
By those who want
Their toys back

Because in their youth
In the sandbox of their dreams
They were asked to share them
With others

And now that they have grown
They can spin whole philosophies
Whole rationales

They can dress their most selfish
Mine! mine! mine!
In comfortably virtuous clothes
By citing government abuses

And Randian clichés

But all they really want
The thing that drives them onward
And inward
Is that sandbox again

With their own toys back
And no one there to tell them
Let others share in your joy

Let others have a turn


— by Douglas Pinson


Wounds That Never Heal
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