There are some things that should never be bothered with,

Name a few things off the top of your head,

What you or others find taboo . . .

And end up never speaking of it.

But there are some taboos that just don’t make senses,

One in mind,

Is that of the many religions that float around,

The world . . .

Its mind numbing of how something as that,

Break humans apart from one another,

Families’ divided,

Minds warp into seeing world of nothing . . .

But vice black and fine white . . .

Human nature is set on the sidelines,

The emotions that make us different,

Casted away,

For the taboos are given . . .

I’ll say it now,

There are taboos that are fine,

I see nothing wrong with them.

It may lie that there isn’t any over thinking,

It’s just a simple,

Yes or no,

Right or wrong,

Rule or living,

Kill or be killed . . .

Having the grays stand little for nothing,

But choice!

There is no higher power on that matter,

Of defining your being,

Only if you over think it,

If you see it as a yes or no choice,

That’s gray,

That’s human,

Error of it all,

Far from religious conviction perfection!

Words made from a far long ago voice or voices,

Unknown to the source,

But tall false fables passed down,

Twisting and confiding,

Leaving the act against it,

To delineate it of error!

Matters of error as to,

If anyone else thinks the same,

Or not,

This just one voice going against an army of abundant . . .

That something from a book,

A scroll,


A language lost forever in time,

Shouldn’t be taken overblown . . .

Take it away from all else that has followed it,

All that grim history because of errors seen,

Not done,

And reverse it.

No hands are clear from the stains,

Of iron scarlet tint blood,

Forever there,

Be it your hands or others,

Those stains follow,

Because of the tartest past,

Conflicting present,

And the forever unknowing future,

What is believe is there,

For its nonsense taboos,

Alone they’ll be.

We can be fighters for change,

Let it play out for the best,

Pick a side and hope for the best,

Or partake in all,

For the stains are on your hands lack of any matters what . . .

With that,

I’ll let you think,

On what matters,

Be mad or not,

Agree or don’t,

Error is human,

And that’s all it is to me.

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