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Things unsaid

Is our whole life a quest to be heard,
to be agreed with?

Do we respect difference,
or do we lose respect when
someone turns out different?

Are these masks over non-malleable faces
or do they hide the weakness
of indecision

Or do they buy us time
to "deal with it"?
to come up with answers

To draw boundaries
around our argument

To point fingers
and take aim
with words

But things said can be fought with

Things unsaid hide behind
mirages of tolerance
the promise of quiet

A tsunami, an implosion
on the surface
justice, a punishment
above the ground

But beneath the soil
the roots grow deeper
thriving in the dark
away from suspicious eyes

And above the ground
branching wide
the same tree.