Clean Hands, Dirty Truths

​Did you ever die inside
not just for hours but years?
throttling the noise inside your head,
muting the static until silence
resembled peace,
and banishing anything
that resembled feeling?
Did you ever judge someone
for doing the very thing
you did yourself?
Did you ever realise
how full of contradiction you are?
When did we become so godlike?
When did our errors fall so far behind us
that we could hurt people
with carefully edited versions of ourselves,
armed with fake narratives
and spotless hands?