Lines

Lines

We draw a line in the sand
and imagine that we have made reality.
We suppose that its crossing
damns;
saves;
or litters our conscience
with bits of cardboard cutouts
upon a field of turned heads
and averted eyes.

This is what we tell our children.
Years later we believe it too.

We draw a line in the blood
and imagine that we have defined life.
We look to one side
and see humanity fled.
We look at the other
and see us for our flaws.

We feel, and think, and sense
in moments cut so and so and so
we do not experience
no one has ever experienced.

We draw a line, and realise
that we have boxed ourselves in
with imaginary walls.
We should raise a hand—
shake our heads—
and step through.
But we do not—
we live in the box
and shout and scream and laugh
at those outside it.
But we do not see

We do not see that our minds are waging a war against us.

*

I am not happy with all of it. Particularly "and see humanity fled"; originally I had "and see murder and cowardice", but that is even worse. Help? Also I can't decide whether to drop the and in "and step through". (to the other?)

Keep the "and step through." It works. Also, your poetry holds a lot more meaning than mine. Good job! :D