What Is It
Hopelessly ensnared between the power mad manipulatorsThe merely corrupt and debased sing song bald faced
Not to know what is bad or good, truth or lie
What is it that pours constantly into ear, into eye
Seeing, hearing what is only a poor image of
Something better off not to know
But there it is
And here we go
Or is it already have gone
Too far to grow together
Or is it play so far apart
Is it all a false pretense of Light
Or is it something invisibly dark ?
Poetry by Chaucer Whethers
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Written on 2022-06-10 at 10:02
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