Coming to My Senses

What makes your eyes so blind they cannot see
The beauty in a spider, cloud or tree?
What makes my nerves so numb they hardly feel
My conscience when I lie or cheat or steal?
Why is Man's hearing muffled lest he hear
The guns and bombs and cries of pain and fear.

We say the taste of victory is sweet
But cannot even taste our own defeat.
Yet our conceited minds still won't accept
That they are poisoned, foolish and inept.
And still we put up barriers and fences
To stop ourselves from coming to our senses.