Who would have thought
she would ever do;
when they conspired and told
the secrets an artifice holds.

show me what's the sense
to gratify a wish
or catching a fish
in speaking of good things
and genuine thoughts
making them, lifting them up
but when you stumble you'll see
the negation of a being.

for every place you see your feet
on the same slippers & jeans
and with every person you speak,
you think again and again
if it's worth it or rather be grim.

with one step forward you stutter
but with a stratagem in mind
you'd do it all again and take the trophy.
you shush them up and then you go home;
you hear whispers, but tries to numb more;
with one pivot of words aback
you won't say a thing or two
with one spark of a little
you either bleed or chipper.

it's not insensitivity. it's not glitter.
the insolence of a child and dishonestly of fate.
but the wind is still rocking the chair
so where does it go, when all else fails?