To be and to seem
Are two different dreams,
One of which one can only dream to achieve.
On the eve of believe,
The naīve are deceived,
When taking their leave from relief,
To be brief.
Yet I’ve not been debriefed,
As I fight disbelief,
My grief is a thief of belief.
If only my eyes could see through the debris,
As the banshee’s decree scrolls across a marquis,
In neon that’s highlighted to the tenth degree.
Power in numbers with no guarantee,
Of the banshee’s decree, take heed.
There’s really no need to bleed,
This I plead.
I shall not succeed if you must proceed,
But do what you must, I beg you indeed.
‘Twasn’t my aim to mislead,
But you only feed on your greed,
And sadly I must concede,
You’re an entirely new breed.
One of which I wish I’d not met,
As you bludgeon me more into debt with your threats,
Step on me like a used cigarette,
Upset you and I, upset your regrets.
Upset your own route, hey are we there yet?
I thought not, no; yet you thought yes.
It is my guess that you’ll never confess.
You live in excess, yet I remain unimpressed.
As the banshee’s decree becomes your main quest.
I fear you’re obsessed,
I fear you’re too stressed,
I fear you’re possessed by this ghastly request.
I didn’t mean to suggest your arrest,
Merely meant to contest your crass test.
Give it up now my friend, you’ve earned your rest.
But rest, you’ll never see,
As your blind to reverie,
Caught in the muck of the banshee’s decree.
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