They have an issue. It is either 'he' or 'she', There is no other being. No gray areas, no muddy concepts, no retracing of steps, no changing opinions, or questioning rules. They are not at peace. There is noise within, but no routes to vent. They are blind. They have shut their ears, their mind. They want to close their eyes, Turn their back, and not hear the cries. They are stubborn. They don’t want to listen. You shout, you scream, You rationalise, you reason, You hope they hear at least, if not listen. They don’t want to read, Expand their views or envision new worlds. They are lonely; they haven’t known love, compassion, or empathy. They like voices, just not the ones diverse. They want you to deal with their insecurities and unrest. They are tired, but they don’t want to let you rest. They don’t know it yet. But they have a grave issue. They have no issues.
I felt every line of this poem. Although you penned it in 2022, it's unfortunate that it's still relevant today.
This is my favorite stanza:
"They want you to deal with
their insecurities and unrest.
They are tired, but they don’t want to let you rest.
They don’t know it yet.
But they have a grave issue.
They have no issues."