Forgotten determined

The gentle nudge of critique,

a chance for polish,

a softening of rough edges,

becomes a forgotten whisper,

lost in the hum of self-interest.

You are so busy holding the strings,

weaving a tapestry of control,

that the honest threads,

the good woven into the fabric of another,

simply don't register.

It is a blindness born of deliberate intention,

a willful sidestep around the sunlightthat illuminates the worth of a soul.

The subtle poison of manipulation,

a constant drip,

drains away the potential for growth,

for genuine connection.

And in this endless dance of dominance,

the upper hand of abuse,

a cold fist clenching tight,

refuses to acknowledge the simple truth,

the solid, unyielding realness of an individual.

They stand there, a solid mountain of self,

their gains meticulously piled,

each stone of advantagecarefully placed,

unmoved by the erosion happening elsewhere.

The welfare of another,

a distant echo,

a concept too alien to grasp.

It matters not to your own race of being,

this insulated existence where only your own kindtruly counts.

And in this relentless pursuit,

this self-imposed desert,

there is an inhuman deterioration,

a slow crumbling of what makes us human.

The empathy retreats,

the compassion withers,

leaving behind a hollow shell,

a monument to self-preservationthat has forgottenthe simple beautyof recognizingthe goodthat isyou.