We guard our rightness like it's precious.
Build walls around opinions that barely matter.
Fight battles we forgot the reason for.
Not because we believe we're right.
Because we're afraid to be wrong.
That fear builds walls. Keeps us caged.
But the strange part is the cell has no lock.
Two words would end it. I'm wrong.
And the whole thing dissolves.
But we'd rather stay trapped than walk through the door.
Mistakes aren't the prison.
The fear of them is.
Every argument you clutch is a bar you're holding onto.
Let go and the cage disappears.
Being wrong doesn't cost you anything real.
It just feels like it will.
