Aug 10
Accusations of the State of Man
You've lied to me-
though the fault is not yours,
For you drink from the cup
into which Fallacy pours.
The world that you see
you see not at all,
Thus the morsels you feed me
are quite tainted and raw.
Standing on glass floors,
where once you felt Earth,
You beg for the knowledge,
but escape Truth in the search.
A Freudian world
dismisses mastery of desire,
The definition of which
was molded through fire.
The questions you've answered
exist only in name;
I have not the answers,
and that is the aim.
