Probably
I'm not as angry as I should be
A stiff and stoic apology
From a crumbling bastion of closed-eyed empathy
I don't believe
In the curative properties
Of rivers or of centuries-old exercises for our egos or
Of pushing my beliefs on anybody
I've already lost them
I couldn't care less
Suddenly
I am brought to my knees
By all the things I see
So unabashedly
In disrepair
Insight inciting fires in my stare
So goddamn self-aware
In conflict or in tandem with the "I don't cares"
As genuine as irony thrown unprepared
And ignorant and faultless
Like the men nailed up on crosses
The horizon duly dotted
On any given day
If I leave
Or is it when, I mean?
I will turn around
And take in everything
And I'd expect that I will see
There was always something there for me