My Rose-Colored Glasses

My Rose-Colored Glasses –

some people might  say,

Have blinded me some –

from the truths of today.

Are glasses half empty?

Or are they half full?

Have I covered my eyes –

with some self produced wool?

I do hear the words –

I do see the hate.

But what if I choose,

to not take the bait?

We live in a place –

where we can speak our mind.

‘Cause a great piece of paper,

our forefathers signed.

Nor the color of glasses,

or the level of glass,

That leads me to action –

or taking a pass.

I feel I am lucky –

but you make the call.

There are some in this world,

with no glasses at all.


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