If bads were crumbled
Into tiny pieces,
They would be badettes;
Like pieces of a puzzle,
The meaning and hurt
Would be obvious in the
Unity
Of the respective parts.
It is difficult
To diagnose a hurricane
From a single drop
Of rain.
Breaking bad
Never transforms it
Into the good
We might wish we had.
Small cuts bleed, too.
Badness hidden in
Micro camouflage
May render it less
Obvious
And more prone
To lethal
Metastasis.
Breaking bad
To disguise the scope
Of intent or injury
Is an act of
Implied consent and of
Moral perjury.
Big lies
Sectioned into small pieces
Are still big lies.
Big hurts
Hurled in multiple
Brief stings
Are no less cruel
Or disabling.
Breaking bad,
Like shredding glass,
Extends the suffering
Without reducing
The inherent and intended
Dark mass.
Being dissembled
And being broken
Come by different routes
But arrive
At the self-same place.
Breaking bad
To deceive
Or to conform more fully
To what one believes
Is still something broken,
Whether thrown,
Written
Or spoken.