They say that love is patient,
They tell you love is kind.
But the only love I’ve ever known,
Was foolish, rash, or blind.
They say it takes a village,
Just to raise a child,
But allow the village idiot,
To run a country wild.
They say these things,
Because the truth is much harder to tell,
And use the words another wrote,
As if they understand so well.
No more will “they” persuade me,
These whispers in our ears,
The words of someone long since gone,
Which lend credence to our fears.
We must always choose to listen,
But not incessantly agree,
There’s a voice inside of you,
As there is in me.