The disguise that fools a hundred suns.
A crime so fine and inconspicuous,
So good and pure yet so serious.
You meant not a thing, not the world, nothing
They'll steal and deceive and leave you wasting.
Liar! You thief! What more can I say of them?
How much more will they take from the deal?
A dime more and they've caught themselves a win,
A trophy for the life they feigned.
Soup and salad is what they have to fill,
Not more not less for what they had killed.
By the time they call, I will not be there
Because life after all, eventually is fair.
I really dont like this. It's not really coherent. I'll do better.
Labels: Poem