(February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

Habitual Forgivers

Habitual forgivers,
Can be walked on.
Like a welcome mat,
That should long be gone.
Is it dependency,
People like this need?
Or is it a wish to change,
Someone loving to do wrong.

There is no recovery,
From repeated lies told.
And habitual forgivers,
Seem hypnotically held...
In some unseen chemistry hold.

If someone trusted is busted,
And witnessed to deceive.
Why would another assist,
To recommend alibis.
With making a suggestion,
Which are more appropriate...
To pick from that list.

Still expected,
Will be forgiveness.
Still to come,
Will it be done.
Still accepted,
Will be a repeating...
Of familiar words softly sung.

There are those who believe,
Amnesia can be scheduled.
And erases misdeeds from
memory.
And the ones,
Who are serial liars...
Know just who to choose,
To dupe, keep hooked and fooled


Yet...
There has to be,
A physical activity...
That keeps a liar and forgiver,
Bonded together...
Like flies to a web,
A spider who has spun it eats.
There has to be 'something',
Gone undenied...
That keeps minds like these,
From seeking help.
Professional psychiatry.

Perhaps what is needed,
Is a bolted door.
One cemented to prevent,
Further addicting sentiments.

Or...
Perhaps what people like this,
Have...
Is a knowing what pleases,
When busy conducting...
Their own business.

'People like that,
Have mental problems.'

-Whatever it is,
That problem isn't physical.
There is a need there,
Somewhere.-

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