We prefer to think our virtues
as innate, ever resting in our mind,
intertwined with our very being,
and our vices something external,
like dirty magazines hidden
in a box under the bed,
separate from what we are; to
be taken out, used, and returned
like nothing in our true selves
would have been stained
and changed. And that in us
which made us seek our vices
we consider a mere wrinkle
in our being, to be straightened
out in some future time.
24.03.2024
#Poem #Poems #Poetry #Verse
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