With a dove’s purity, they embrace you
But in your delightful doubt, you hold back
They ring your bell at the break of dawn
But you put up the ‘closed’ signal
In the spirit of festivity, they send you a hamper of goodies
But with timid trepidation, you turn it down
They try to be the salve for your wounds
But you admit there will always be a scar
They give up. Then you realise.
Who made you judge of their motives?
Who made you the sorcerer that sees all?
Who hoodwinked you that all humanity is inhumane?
Have you sailed a ship into their soul?
To discover the treasures of trust stored beneath?
Have you drowned in the depth of their desire
To see you laugh all your life in their land?
You are charming, and cultured, and confident
But for how long shall cynicism chew your cord?