People who are enigmatic
blending words, muddling deeds
convulsive aura, thoughts in plethora
what in them, can you ever read?
Angry face, voracious tone
like some devil left long and lone.
Them, in mystery
of deep, dark, deluded- history;
like drops within hails
and prudence within tails
hidden in them is obscure illusory.
And we, when open
like book of puerile stories
or infantile fantasized glories;
as face predictors, mind readers
sit to untangle, these esoteric leaders;
conclude as all men ever did
that, "them" are unjudgable arbiters.
Them- who lead,
obsceners of their time,
though profound, pervadingly devine
what such kind, will you ever meet?
Fierce engulfing fire,
Drenched, dripping yet distant from desire. The tyrants, these not-so-king,
eloquent to emancipate of what they say to what they think. Taciturn, though licentious within in a man as such, can you ever see if occult pain, or obfuscating grin?
