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No More Than Honeyed Lies`
Our lives be naught but
Honeyed lies comprised
By capricious butterflies
so if it feels a bit surreal
You should not be surprised
That masked amongst
The fog and mist
lie scaley things that
writhe and twist
That hope and dreams
be not what they seem
And tis futile to resist
The dream in which
we think we dwell
exists only in our mind
sparkles of neurons
crackling of axons
an eerie kind of shine
we're naught but stardust coalesced
Naught but figments of fog
and mist
Yet are cursed or...perhaps blessed
to exist...to live and die
As naught but
...Honeyed lies...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem