A flash in the pan.

Sometimes we lash out.

The best of us, the ones with sharp wits and gilded tongues
wage war with the impatience and inequality in our lives.

Each time we feel mistreated the temptation is so strong
to open up a wound with a word.

We want to cut so deeply that we're finally heard.

Filigree and lace are the blessings of life, easily cut and not easily repaired.
Yet in a caustic moment of self-righteous idiocy they are torn or tarnished.

We mean so little malice, but we only want them to notice us.

We are the plain canvas that strains to move a ship, we are the simple metal locks that keep the evil from your home.

We are the functional creatures of the world, and with our great purposes and strong bodies come fierce understandings and proud ways.

Sometimes all we need to know is that the more decorative among you remember this--your lifestyles are borne on our backs. When we feel forgotten the temptation is strong to turn our thoughts to evil purposes--to hurt, to justify, to subjugate.

Would that we could be forgiven as quickly and as deeply as the damage itself is done.

Healing is a slow process.