Glass rain

You shouldn’t throw stones in a glass house, silly. In the end we are the same.
You accuse me of being pretentious, a know-it-all, vain.
How can you be sure that it’s not you who are the vain one?
How can you be sure of the rightness in all you’ve done?

Cleverness comes in all shapes, silly. Just like stupid does.
Like cunning, nobility, kindness, because
An ugly face can hide beauty within, like beauty can disguise falseness
So being humble is sometimes wise, what do your façade hide?

Your ignorance amaze me, I guess age is no guarantee
To acquire knowledge, insight in what can be.
Sometimes I might have the answer, sometimes you might be wrong.
Why do you insist on that the wise don’t wear a thong?

In the haste of judging me, you are blind to yourself.
You put your values, your beliefs on prides highest shelf.
How can you be sure that what you see is the truth?
How can you be sure that there’s no wisdom in youth?

The shards will cut you, you know. When you throw your stones around.
But I’m not in there with you I’m not bound
By your values or your views, I have my own set of rules.
Or do I?

How can I be sure that what I see is the truth?
How can I be sure there is wisdom in youth?
How can I be sure that I’m not the vain one?
How can I be sure of the rightness in all I’ve done?

We are both living in the glass house, and both throwing.
Both being cut by glass, and none is undergoing
The necessary changes to understand the other ones’ brain.
So we both stand here throwing in the glass rain.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem started as a reaction to some of the pretentious crap I've seen in here(sorry guys, but some of us are a bit full of our selves), but ended up something entirely different. Hope you like it anyway.

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