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