A Critique of Critique

Curses think they are charms when conjured
Each plot is really a happiness plan
Thus analysis of how life is injured
Is as useless as invisible hands

Words can't come without a perspective
That's the paradox of this task
Inadvertent always invective
Won't hide under a loving mask

Surely death washes away each wound
As obviously as every win
To see any outcome as a boon
May as well be called sin

Stances fail to maintain balance
In chaos and oddness the chill
Owl sighs look at mice askance
Not knowing that talents could kill

Stroll with a hand in pocket
And the mind will invent the pose
Gait drives electricity to socket
As surely as water will hose

Narrow your focus and darkness you'll get
Downer the scope of the view
Broaden: conclusions do slip through the net
Beyond valence, this critiqueless crew

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