Lethal Injustice Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

No one...
Is without mistakes to make.
Or performs a digestion,
To claim the waste...
From them created,
Done to eliminate.
Could or can anyone say,
Had been contemplated.
To await proactively,
For the right time and place.
With a date given to be known,
Of a doing that prepares...
Others of its awareness.
And expect with anticipation,
Those who had been alerted...
Anticipate a scent,
Much different...
Than that of a rose to accept.

Today...
Not too many people like that,
Are sharing themselves...
Beyond the necessity of it.
And very few.
Maybe one or two concerned,
Will announce the business...
They will perform to do.
And privately to choose.
Will apologize before doing it.
To not want to be blamed,
For being misunderstood.
Selfish or self centered.
Or...
Thought to be inconsiderate.
To later have it claimed,
Something they did...
To promise it to come.
Had not been done to deliver!

'Hear me out.
We all sat and ate,
The same stuff.
And off the same menu.
I smell,
What you all smell too!
However...
Being calmly told,
What is to come done.
And not warned to leave,
The premises?
You know...
To evacuate with a distance,
Made away from the area.
Is an injustice to us all.
The chef.
The servers and patrons.
Especially,
When a smell like that..
Is not a mistake to make.
But known to be lethal!
Now...
Someone has set off,
The fire alarm.
And no chef,
Should accept that...
As a compliment! '

'I can not believe any of this.
Stop exaggerating.'

'I will be outside.
With the rest of the people.
The ones getting up.
Moving towards the exits.
And not one,
Exaggerating MY beliefs! '