The one who cried lies
Oh what hides behind those lies?
What can I see in those weary eyes?
The foxes grin
Shows greater sin,
Whether it be mystical or magical or just plain unimaginable
The words will pass their lips, perhaps incomprehensible
Watch happenings take form, being drawn in the past
The one-man game of charades will never last.
The keepers are bound
Weighed down to the ground,
The gazes start to wander, their words start to stutter,
As their minds wonder they start to blunder their thoughts turn to thunder their head is a amplifier,
Their utterances become twisted
The truth is misted,
What is the purpose of this? The manipulation, the adaptations, the interpretations
You ask this but never aloud
For you know the answer
Will hold an unsightly shroud,
For it is those who are rehearsed, uniformed
Those who you see every day, thoughts, tsunamis in their heads,
Their ever-worn mask devoured into the skin, the mask of innocence and insistence
It is those
Who hold the deepest secrets.
31/1/2018
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of a Blind Girl
PoesiThis a complete collection of the poetry which I have written over my lifetime. I hope that you enjoy them!
