Tiptoe 'cross the floor on eggshells,
From fear of finding shards of glass
That have stung, cut, crippled, and felled
Clumsy ogres who walked so rash.
Under each phrase, even each word,
Lies great pains - gentle souls' triggers!
Can I avoid those hidden hurts?
Perhaps... with careful word pickers...
I hope to bring peace to our Earth,
Where folks do not lash out and hurt
Those who come from different births -
Perhaps, there, all could soar like birds.
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