The reality of the moment

Is sometimes obscured

By intentional slowness

And then we endure



For we're sucked in

And allow ourselves

To be plied within

Rooms we assemble



And then we play along

Wondering all the while

As we sing our song

And don our fake smile



How far she can go

Pretending it's real

When you know it's show

For it lacks the zeal



Of real communication

For there's no relation

Of thought to action

And so we fracture



The balance within

And force her to pin

Her objective on air

Which is not hot there



But she cannot do it

For to do so will pit

Her mind against clutter

She cannot ever utter 



For speaking so clear

Will bend many ears

Then she will choose

The creation to lose



For reality's not

Her true spot

And rather than be

All things to me



She runs away

To win another day

At being the clot

Which she has forgot



For depth of feel

Lacks in this meal

Which is so packed

With little stacked



On top of shoulders

And gets no older

For all her muscles

Are lost in tussles



She has within - a mind

Which fails to thus shine

And when she then runs away

You're not glad you played



For time was wasted

On pretense which tasted

Bitter to the tongue

And we lost the song



When lies came adrift

And we saw much missed

And then we let her know

We thought she should go.



- Tristram