When golden caskets horrors hold,
And lead are filled with treasure,
Is all that’s true that we are told
So far away from pleasure?
Harpies, Devils, Angels come
To twist and change our fate,
But how can we never succumb
To what we can’t relate?
Ever-changing artist of all forms you can devise,
Superstitions, all traditions, lie behind our eyes.
All things are one-sided farces,
All things are delusions.
Present and Historic subjects
All contain illusions.
Professionals can’t hope to find
Our comprehension flawless,
For of the aspects of mankind,
The mind’s the only lawless
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.