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A black-and-white ruler stands inside my heart
Everything must be judged right or wrong
No room for any word that differs
The truth I hold shall never bend
Gripping the blade of right and wrong to guard my pride
Every reminder reads as accusation
Once my ground is touched a chill arises
Instant defense not a step back given
Metal energy tight clinging to my own conclusions
Every matter precise no space to breathe
Hard to accept a softer point of view
Only winning arguments brings peace
Not that I wish to be at odds with all
Just terrified my world might fall
Clinging to right and wrong a floating shore
Lose the ground and I stand nowhere
The sharp edge wounds all who draw near
Beneath the blade something trembles slightly
Too fixated on winning and on truth
Trapped instead unable to move
Slowly set down the sharp ruler within
Allow this world to hold multiple answers
No need to prove existence through debate
Softness too can keep the heart clear