Why is it I’d like to know.,
That I can go from high to low,
When people say things I find unfair,
Can’t I ignore them or give them a glare?
Must I shout and try in vain,
Giving my mind endless pain
To change their minds or that nebulous matter
That they carry around in their heads or whatever.
Standards they have two or a pair,
One for themselves, the other for the rest,
Subtleties are lost, nuances are missed,
Stinging words are their idea of wit.
There are times when I dearly wish,
That where they deserve I could plant a kick.
I must instead with words be content,
Frail and ineffectual to the illogical bent.
All right, all right, let’s call it a day
Send tempers home and pride away
Rebuild those bridges and bury those hatchets
Else how can we fight another day?
28/8/86
