An owl of fine repetition,
Coaxes me with ancient persuasion.
His allure of virtue, facile in nature,
Reaches the darkest corners of pure being.

The simple white noise masks my thoughts;
Screaming so loud
The euphoric sound cannot be fought.

The masses flow towards the falsity of ease,
But simple is a contradiction
And erudition blossoms from anomaly,
Which the white owl cannot see.

Imperceptible to those beguiled,
And deaf to the enthralling calls,
Seduction cannot overthrow me
And Temptation remains illusory.

I shy away from no fabricated Baphomet,
Facing desolation and veracity.
Exposing myself and my entity,    
My eyes cannot be shut.

Am I seduced by contumacious ignorance?

The white noise masks my thoughts;
Screaming so loud
The sound cannot be fought.

An owl of fine repetition;
Aging against time,
He beckons me.

The ignorant live in their own small world,
Hidden by a lack of understanding;
The many lies they hear are never unfurled,
They're sheltered by belief in a being;
Even some who swear their veracity,
Thrive gaily protected by their credence;
They welcome menace and mendacity,
Pushing away actual malfeasance.
But the ignorant can only see grace,
In their paradise they live cheerfully;
Their faults are invisible in that place,
While the rest of us remain fearfully.
Sadly ignorance will always be bliss,
And I will always notice what I miss.