Blindness

I am tired of blind people. I am not refering to those who lack the ability to see clearly with their eyes. I am talking about people who, through their actions, cause harm, and sorrow to spread. They open their mouths and speak unkindness, their words are daggers, they cannot love for they do not know love when they see it. Their blindness to others causes them to find nothing in the world worth a smile. So they collapse inwardly, boiling in their own disolving bodies. Braking down like soup thats been cooked too long, canned in a pretty package, then consumed only to taste bland, brackish, uninteresting. They cling to every evil word and deed done to them, even if compounding the wrong in their own heads until the evil is vast and unbareable to behold. They use up what little feeling they have on anger, and fear. They are a sad lot.
I find myself hoping that someday they will have the scales wiped from their eyes. I hope they will see. But they will not see. They will go on in blindness until their lives are spent, wasted on twisting on their cross that they themselves have made; and then pass away to lie cold beneath untened brass name plates, in unvisited graveyards. And as the cold November rains come and soak the brittle leave that cake those forgotten tombs, what of all that wated effort to keep the wound alive? Are they off in some celestial plane weeping for that loss? Are they sitting amoungst each other, all piled ontop of by their countless fellows, prattling on about how wreched things are? Each being oblivious to the pain and feelings of the other. Or are they silent bones resting next to the silent bones of those who smiled at life, even when losing it by the hands of those who are blind.