Practicing The Pointing Of Aging Fingers

All it had to take,
Was the admission of one's mistakes.
With the facing of one's wrongs.
To eliminate.
To have them then forgiven.
The dance with procrastination,
Became stronger when prolonged.

And for those who chose to remain hidden,
Behind created accusations unlimited...
A discovery found has occurred.
There were no escapes routes to warn,
Or printed on walls surrounding dead ends.
And...
Remembered loud voices exclaiming,
'I Told You So! '
Hand ended long ago.

Unfamiliar but too common,
Is 'that' reality one accepts...
That exhausts every delusion one has used,
To make more excuses.
To finally be left alone,
Practicing the pointing of aging fingers.
To leave those duped and once supportive,
Feeling ashamed...
They were picked and baited to believe false claims.

As the ones victimized by deceiving eyes,
Of expressed innocence used to lure others...
To navigate misdeeds done,
Have never shown themselves affected...
By the telling of lies directed to defame them.
In fact...
Such character assassinations,
Seem to have been to their benefit.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!