Betrayal, is like the mole in the pasture.
You thought you knew all about it,
when it popped its head up,
but god knows what it does underground...

Sooner or later, you find out, the mole was blind all along.
Didn't even really know you were there.

So how do you trust a friend who has no eyes to see.
How do you trust the uncertain problem solver, the maverick.
How do you trust the truth of Lady Justice, herself,
Sheathed in ragged, blood-stained cloth of the innocent.

Maybe the real question is, how do we trust ourselves?
Aren't we blind, when we live half our lives in darkness.
Still further, we live most of life in sleep,
Where our dreams are luxurious secrets, even to ourselves.

No one speaks of their lofty dreams, they stay perched in limbo.
To speak endlessly, until not spoken to, if only life were so simple...