The Sham

The sham, a scam, the make-believe.
Throw the tattered covers on the grave.
Living without ever really knowing
love at all. They slide into the fall,
and then they never make it up again.
Telling themselves all along that
nothing matters but the end.

Fake it till you make it, but don't ever
let them know you never really made
it there. Make it look all right, for that is
all that really matters. Don't ever take
the time to look within and find the
core belief that brought you to such
sin, originating in the virgin mood
of all religion.

Heaven waits, and so life grates along.
Foolish, foolish people that have never
known the bliss of nature's call.
Orderly, they walk the halls of
plastered amnesty. Let them sleep
until their peace is born. Don't tell
them that the shroud's been torn; the
veil rent; and innocence escaped.

Teach the children no more than robotic
moves to play within the greater game
you call a life. Anciently, the stream
keeps running on - twists and turns -
oh, how it burns to think you might have
lived a life of love. On the hill, and
there, inside of them. Will they make it
round the bend yet one more time?

Live and learn, the saying goes.
Rise to heaven; burn in hell.
They even make their death
a paradox. Goldilocks lives with
the bears, and here she finds her ease.
The witch lives all alone there in the old
decrepit cottage in the woods. Her shiny
new corvette is parked just yonder on the hill.
Robin Hood became a king, now causing
all the suffering that he once thought to end.

When will the wind come whip it
into shape? Don't worry, dear,
you never will escape. No matter
where you go, the winged gates
will be forever out of reach.
Scholarly, we teach the children
nothing real at all. Then wonder
why they shatter as they fall into
reality.

Do unto others before they ever
dare to do to you. Give and give,
don't ever take a stand for living
love. Black, the velvet glove that
holds the ever bloody sword.
Without a word, it reaps its own
reward. Will we ever learn to
grieve in full?

The sham, a scam, the make-believe -
throw the tattered covers on the grave.
Living without ever really knowing
love at all. They slide into the fall,
and then they never make it up again.
Telling themselves all along that
nothing matters but the end...

? Michaelette ?

3/18/2002
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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