Growth

Tell me that my songs
have never encroached upon
some semblance of sanity
reflected on an emblem of war
you've dclared against me

Tell me that my words
Once esteemed and pedestel bound
Have been uncrowned-
Found uncouth in your new scheme

Tell me that my deeds
Are now mud and soot upon your shoulders
Past any virtuos intent,
Over the bridges of common courtesy
Beyond the border of propriety.

Check your conscience at the door
Remove what may be mistaken for regret-
Then tell me the above truths
Proper guilt should follow- befitting
Only in your direction