Predisposed

no one looks
to see the restive seas
left in their wake

for if they saw
the sorrow sowed

the past would thus be reaped

to sympathize with captors
of one’s verity unveiled

only validates the fate
from which we flee

and so our sacrosanct delusions
pave these wonted paths we tread

nevermind the methods

for what better victim could exist

apart from one whose woeful plight
is readily compounded