Wool

We are much like the blind and the deaf,
As we stutter through our lives and loves,
Relying on the media to be our eyes and ears.

We trust them,
We put our faith in their honesty,
In their incorruptibility.
We think that they point us in the direction we asked,
Or translated into signs the speech we indicated.
We think nothing of ulterior motives.

But maybe we have pulled the wool,
Over our own eyes,
Stuffed our own ears with cloth.
And perhaps if we remove it,
We may find that the world is not quite as we thought.