Self deception
is the worst deception
he said
it betrays
deep within
and when
the collapse comes
as it will
the two sides
are spilt like
two sides of a truth.
The quack sat
and listened
and lit up a cigar
and wrote down notes
looking up
now and then
and peered
at his patient
understandingly
or so appeared.
I thought
I thought it through
but I hadn't
I thought of only
those aspects
I wanted to look at
and think about.
The quack raised
thick eyebrows
and put on his
I know what you mean gaze
but inside thought
the patient was out
on a limb and had
no idea what to do for him.
I knew I didn't like it
but I pretended I did
I deceived myself
I fooled myself
and then I opened up
to myself and there
were two of us
me and him
the fucking cuss.
The quack frowned
puffed out smoke
stared at the patient
through a cloud of grey
just another patient
just another day.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem