Acceptability Is The Most Polite Hypocracy Poem by Wes Thompson

A boy died today
I did not know his face
Or his laugh
But I drove in large, unplanned circles
On streets with theme names
And I thought about the forest not too far away
Where my father once took me
I stood at the edge of the river
That parts the trees
But not so tall as He
On clear days with a bit of luck
You can find arrowheads along the bank
It's not that I do not feel bad
About the boy who died today
I suppose I am not exactly sure what I feel
Some claimed 'Better him than me.'
To that, I do not agree
Which is not the same as disagreeing
I am almost sure
And likewise, today is not unpleasant
Which is not the same as pleasant
Of that I am all too certain
The time is getting harder to pass