Should we be asked
how many broken hearts
can be found
in a private collection,
would we recount
them all?
Would we reveal their real number
or would we stumble with our words
and have our clumsy hesitation mistaken
for a memory loss?
Wouldn’t we wish
we could withhold the answer
to simplify an unflattering reaction?
A circle of silence should proclaim
the deserved moderation
summoned to publicly
restore
the lost tokens of innocence,
our defeated good nature,
sinned against by our infamy gestures
or wounded solitudes.
Standing ovations and shiny rewards
will go to anyone
whose supreme sacrifices,
seemingly reduced,
seemingly reduced,
have been recycled
and reused
to pay for the damage.
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