We don't understand

Some things are so simple we don't understand them. Dark poem.

We Don't Understand


These people say hope is dope.
When will they learn?
what truth's have they discerned?
Hope is a rope
holding you as you swing round and round
It makes you believe
al those atrocious talking sounds
that people make to keep you up
then your feeling down.
What do they know of the horror that's bound
In all those meaningless, nameless nouns
love, faith, insane,
all unsound
when were those things
that could be lost and found?
Gained or grown
seeds to be sowed?
How could a word
That's so thoughtless
be so thought about?
So profound?
How could ideas so simple
bring great minds to the ground
and contain and confound
the otherwise boundless world
of pure thought, without sound?
That's being human
Being subject to simplicity
to accuse basic words of duplicity.
no matter how many times the sun dawns
We'll never understand the things we stand upon.