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The mask of silent retort
Has shown its face; its opening eyes nigh.
Encompassing
our frustrated reaction to the
Many decisions contrary to our truth. But,
As is the wont of whim to bear
Such trivialities;
inspiring in you,
Kisses to the lips of the bullet
Of grievance, which
From such pathetic notions, which it seems
to
Suggest by its very presence, remains deaf;
Inspired to new heights of emotional greed;
Left to its own devices,
while you and I,
Each but with our common understandings,
Nudge one another closer to doubt.
The silent truth, to
our unfathomable despair,
Reveals itself to the illuminata;
Each more astounded by the cryptic
Turn embedded in its
language, and, devout
Over their own personal stimuli,
Return to seek in its motto,
The truth of distraction.
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