Dinner Thoughts

O’ the bitterness that sears.
What sadness, what gloom to be misunderstood.
To be muted by contempt, tears welling, sitting across from, side by side, pompous, yet minuscule, minds.
O’ the pain that sears.
To hear their subtle degradation of a people bequeathed with inequality.  Of lies in tones of truth, believed by many, detected by few.  By one.  Their pasts, seated upon cushions of ivory.  Of homes in the Vineyard, of days on the lawn.  Standing tall beside your tale of modest but sturdy foundation.
A cushion, tufted and comfortable, but nay.  Nay you be called unaware as they.  Eyes open to the inequalities and injustices, yet, words stuck.
The somber friend, reserved.  The sad friend.  Fiery bursts.  So angry, so bitter?  No, so sad.
I want to know the words, the better words.
To slay the ingrained, and well spoken, arguments of those sitting daintily upon their pillows of ivory.
Let me not polarize.  Nor let me harbor contempt.
But, let my words flow with fluidity and smite the ignorance as it falls from their lips.

Sunday, 11:01 p.m.