Fickle Angels

The faults in others’ plans
Noticed by our eyes
Is no sufficient price to pay
In exchange for their demise

Everyone has a soul worth infinitely
More than the walls we erect
Ironically tarnishing what was never
Meant to be less than perfect

Yet what fierce fortresses!
Entitled to be and feel unique
Double edged castles suffocating
And feigning away from critique

Yet isn’t that the bottom line
Of every argument that we chase
The subtle, primal urge
To lay our opposition to waste

And while on the surface
We deny the urge to gloat
Its tough to conceal the archer’s smile
Surveying bodies in the moat

Our house of judgment so divine
That we burn our brothers

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