Those who don't know any better
Assume that me and my brothers
Are innocent little angels
Who do not even begin to know
How to do any wrong
They assume
That violence is not in our vocabulary
They think we are perfection
And don't make any mistakes
That all we know
Is a combination of
Manners and Etiquette
Education and Breathing
What to do in an emergency
And pleasant small talk
They think that we keep our rooms
Spotless and never make a mess
They believe we are "polite prodigies"
Every second of the day
Every place we come across
But we know that nobody is seamless
Let alone on a constant grind
It is impossible to be seamless
We mess up day in and day out
Violence is what dominates
Our temperaments when provoked
Nobody can hold all of the world's
Information any day of the week
Even Google answers wrong occasionally
We may know everything
About ourselves, or so we think
But we will always make the same mistakes
About them as they did to us
There will never be an innocent moment
In our entire lives