INCANDESCENT

Revenge is a funny thing in a not so haha way
It allows the crime, the hurt, the sin the opportunity to procreate.
It recoils, and springs and stings until the victim is numbed with hate
And he flies around on the wings of a vendetta with his entire life at stake.

If only the flyer would break away
from the site of the target at hand
And take a gander at oneself
and notice he’s a wounded man.

The wings of justice you thought you were on are only the wings of lies.
Each swipe of a feather against the air only whisper that you are right.
Gliding over a desert land, bodies lay below
Of all the wounded saints shot by rage-driven arrows.

You see, once you take flight with bitterness
there’s only one destination to go
For you cannot see the truth ahead
for deception is your window.

You ponder and anticipate destruction
and fantasize of their sorrow
but it will be your demise instead
for you will die by your very own arrow.

Until we recognize the fault in us
we will only point to it in man.
And the day we focus on healing our hearts
will be the day we choose forgiveness instead.