Mired in Quicksand

I can only leave when enough issues have been resolved.
I cannot leave when crisis has precipitated the leaving.
I am mired in quicksand.
I am sucked in
I rebel against this unfairness
I have to fight it,
prove the rectitude of my actions,
gnaw away at that bone until I’m convinced there is not even a shred of meat left
not a shred!
It is as if I cannot face the inevitable unless it is shoved in my face
Every stone must first be unturned.
Even if I know what lies beneath the stone
I have to lift it, look closely, dig around in the murk
emotion disguises itself as logic.
Inspector Clousseau is on the scene
investigates the situation
collates the evidence and then,
after sifting and considering it, processes this and provides a report.
This despite the smoking gun held in the hand of the accused as he crouches over his victim, triumphant yet defeated.



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