There is a strange poetry
To the dance
Of political correctness
A fluid rhythm
Born of necessity
Acute awareness
Of the subtleties of subtext
And the symmetry of semantics
A veil of fine spun silk
To filter the unmentionable
An inbred censorship
To monitor and apportion
A vague sense of guilt
For even daring to think
The unthinkable
No comments:
Post a Comment