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