These questions that I have,
That form in my head,

I wonder, what’s the cause of it,
How did they get there and why?

So far different than the stone walls,
That were built before them,

They reach miles on end,
With towers sucking in beams of moonlight,

Those stone walls are also weak,
One shake and they’ll crumble,

Stones so fragile, offering no support,
All they are is a frame,

A frame to hold the elaborate painting,
That was smeared together by artificial colors,

A lonely caste….a shadow,
A shadow of what I once was,

A shadow of what I want to be,
How, much I wish to switch portraits,

This is impossible though,
I don’t even try,

For the shadow has manifested so much,
That it completely eclipses the former painting,

It would be easy, to crumble those stones,
No longer would there be reason to seek the truth,

For I would now know,
Yet, the placebo moat won’t let me,

and i hate getting wet.