It Wasn't Me

I am allowed to be happy, and I am.
It is not my sickness infecting the hearts of bigots;
Sparkling eyes,
filth
Dripping from their smiles.
It was not my brute force which fenced off the commons,
and
Made a labor peddler of every man.
My heart is relatively pure,
Isolation from true conflict has left it so.
My biological constitution is weak;
If not for the fists of my social ancestors
I would be as
Respectably
Subdued as Tibet-
Moving earthworms before each step.
It is not my weight crushing the crust;
Fecal alluvion caked like plaque.
Dams as poorly function stints
Articulate
dribble
where Torrent should live.
Fucking guilt-inducing Catholic mantras are of no consequence,
All I kept from them was a desire to be kind.
I do a semblance of my best,
and try better every day.
So,
I am allowed to be happy.
And I am.