He or she
Who is without sin
Casts stones
Or so you say,
When I stand guilty,
Me,
As sinful as I claim
You might be,
Painful tales
I do not understand,
Some stones we thrown
At too true
For our own good,
We do not always
Do things to drive
You crazy, or steal
Your sleep
Or drain your energy,
As if blood,
Sometimes we
Don’t know the harm
We cause
Until we’ve caused it,
And then like
A Three Stooges act,
We stumble
Over ourselves,
Causing more,
Until every blunder
Causes grief
We never intended,
Yet can’t stop ourselves
From doing it
Again and again.
We do not mean
To be mean,
And mistake our
Meanness for kindness
Which ultimately,
Is a worse crime
Because we are like
A blind man with
A shotgun
Shooting at anything
That moves,
Mistaking what we hunt for
For what must never be
Hunted,
As stupidity reigns
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