Thursday, July 2, 2015

Ignorance is a bliss

It is average, to want to know
to open your fist that's been too closed to 
the outside wind, the sky's calls
but trust, the things unwanted don't arrive to you

they say ignorance is a bliss,
when the number of the corpses rises in 
your backyard, when the sound of 
the bombshell drowns people somewhere 

you will tell your ignorance is a bliss
the newspapers don't speak ill of the dead
they detail everything to perfection 
the fall, the breakage of the bones 

never an ill adjective or an expectation 
of what might have been rambling 
inside a dead man's brain
but your ignorance is a bliss

when the leaves are filed away, 
without your knowledge to the houses
you've destroyed with your desire to selfishness
you will know that this ignorance is a bliss

bone or a bane there are things you are not
supposed to know, nor guess, nor make use of 
like the mysteries you seek a lifetime at exploring
the breaking of the elixir into main ingredients 
the gathering of your belongings to cook the potion
add a little bliss, with ignorance 

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