Aiming at the truth, I forgot to do something,
And for someone I loved, this failure to do
What I forgot, had more meaning than even the true.
It showed a character flaw
More meaningful than my solid jaw,
More meaningful than the poems I wrote
To her, or the red envelope with the love note.
It hurt her, and she never did say
What it was, and I didn’t realize what it was until today.
It can take a long time for the truth to manifest.
Even as you aim to be good, it can ruin all the rest.
Once I bought one plum and I should have bought two,
And one time I reached into my pocket for pennies and I had too few.
But when someone scrutinizes you
And is struck by what your character doesn’t know,
Every mathematical formula will not help. You better go.
And I could still be ignorant. I wept. I worked out. I re-read
Every word of this poem. What was it that wasn’t said?
Scarriet 
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