315/365: The Reaction Machine

I looked for culprits and liars.
I looked for agendas.
If there was a force against my interests,
then my failures were incidental,
and my hands could remain,
if only in a balance of foils,
clean.

Stop finding devils
to justify what you do.

This,
said to me by an older friend,
stopped me short.

If your moral right lies only
in your opposition to that which you hate,
what are you?

You're a reaction machine,
a leg jerking under the doctor's mallet.
You're a baby crying about being poked.

He never chose kind over true,
and I hated him.

#365poems at Schmutzie.com