Our Tickets Were Counterfeit Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

You must align yourself with reality.
Traces of you scatter in points of view,
Diminished!
Gone.
Not to come back.
Where IS your focus at?

You must stop and watch your tracks.
Or contact the contractor,
Who sold 'you' that 'trip' you bought!
I can't believe you don't see,
That dead end coming.
As sure as can be!

You are slower than I thought.
When we paid for our fare together...
Where were you
When I and the others knew,
Our tickets were counterfeit!

We were sold fantasy,
That is why we are alarmed...
And shouting in fits!
Where were you?
Those who listened knew.
The tickets we have are counterfeit.
And now they are saying...
There's no way to get out of it!
We waited too long,
To right the wrong of this!