I find myself,
In a timid place,
Under a tepid light,
With a treacherous task.

But is it the the task,
Or the truthless lies,
That I've been told,
Many times?

But the time has come,
And left in a tick.
For me to tweak up,
Not live with these tricks.

And so I tilt,
In an idle trance,
In a troubling place,
With this task at hand.