An ugly trade,
Rooted from  
Blinded ignorance,
Understood as righteously just,
Yet only known
From a perspective
With half the truth.

The work it takes
To carry such anger,
To hold a grudge.
So much weight
On our shoulders…
Such cargo to carry,
As we attempt to ascend.

Making our climb
To the top
That much more difficult.
Thinking that holding on,
Will make us stronger…

Not realizing
That with every step,
We grow weaker,
As it gets heavier.

Growing exhausted,
Looking at what lays ahead,
While clenching to that which occurred.

Just waiting…
Waiting for the right moment
To settle the score.
Believing that retribution
Is warranted…
As vengeance
Will relieve us…
Offering a sort of satisfaction.

But it never does…
As the cargo only gets heavier,
As time progresses.
And the ability to unload

Slowly killing ourselves,
As we refuse to let go…

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