To make me cry

People cry over a cliché, that's too obvious, limed in the universally accepted good Moral, sure he lost his son and his wife, and he himself is dying now, but what really touches me, shakes me cruely, are the little words spoken to hurt, the gestures of rejection from the daily life which prove how much we are negligent about each others for the reason we are frail about "what is me", it's criticizing, it's killing for self reassurance, ease an irrational fear turning us into fools, and no one notices that absurdity, because it's part of the system, part of human relations, an unconscious flaw.