Pain To Feel Meant

Not often is a pain to feel it meant,
Forgotten unremembered.
As to who did it done.
Or the name of the ones,
Intending it to remain to stay that way.
No matter what is felt to go around,
Is sent to come back.
From generation to the next.
Decade after decade.
Year after year.
Day in and day out.
As if to celebrate the unexplainable.
Like...
For what reason and why,
Something starts to find time...
To do whatever it is,
Because it has become a way of life to live it!

'If the body naturally cleans and cures itself.
Why is it people attempt to prevent this done.
By seeking remedies to believe,
Themselves to be garbage cans.
Putting more garbage into themselves?'

'Oh?
So what are you?
One of those,
Turn the other cheek vegetarians?'

'That makes no sense at all!'

'The pot calling the kettle black!'

'I am neither a bigot nor a racist.'

'If you don't want the barbecue,
Don't ruin the picnic for everybody!
No one here wants to hear you lecture,
About who does what repeatedly to do...
To make them mentally and physically sick.
Doing the best they can to ignore your B.S.'

'Perhaps that's how the pain to feel meant,
Started in the first place.'

'No.
That pain to feel meant,
Was invited by those...
Who couldn't keep their mouths close.'

'My sentiments exactly.
What goes in often stays to no one's benefit,
At all!'

'You can say that again.
But don't.
Just pass the ribs and the sauce.
Thank you!'