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“Blinded” – Poetry

I passed by the open door, head shaking in awe

At the petty grievances held, the loftiness of the up-turned nose,

At the minds closed to all but grandeur.

For some, it’s bathed in silk and velvet,

For others, gashing wounds are a Divine right.

Life without the love of Heaven is the truest state of poverty –

The oppressed take pride in their sorrows,

While others are strangled with silk brocade.

I pity those without eyes to see –

With padlocked hearts and souls.

Truly, a gilded cage can be lined with lead

And come in many forms.

Poetry Copyright © 2020 by Ena Whiteraven   All rights reserved.

Image: found online, photographer unknown

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