Why Do I Cry when I Watch The Parent Trap?

It has been said in heady circles
that ordinary folk cannot take the truth,
that they would find it too awful to accept
that they couldn’t care less.
They are not as incapable of grasping the truth
as their leaders are of telling it,
that the complexities these wilful people strive to master
are nothing but simple contradictions
that ordinary folk are too lazy to understand.

It has been said in heated circles
that bloody hands shake on oil far away,
while poverty and murder wreak havoc at home,
flesh torn apart with mechanical ease,
while creatures lick lips and slash faces,
smiling for the cameras,
for news items and police shows,
yet still ordinary folk laugh into mugs,
watching their backs,
awaiting their turn.

It has been said in hardy circles
that the stomach of a drunk will allow no goodness,
that he must expel all nutrition that passes his lips
that he must somehow look within his bomb of a body
to find that this is the truth,
that he is as incapable of mending his illness
as cancer relenting to forgiveness,
his mind and body attracted only to poison
so that his frame may perish at iron gates
to celebrate free will, the nature of things,
and the gratitude of other less sensitive souls.

It has been said over trellis
that a cat may wonder and a dog may not,
that cats are wise and dogs are not,
but there are no guide cats or police cats,
only owners who seek them out
to feed them for strokes,
to accompany their waffled solitude
and mark anniversaries
while the heads of dogs rest on leads,
eager to please the faithless blind.