Leading minions through their lives,
with tales akin to nursery rhymes;
Borrowing words' suspicious meanings,
with truth upheld in literary leanings.

Escape will often set their minds,
toward phrases of a different kind;
Whatever's lost in fields of dawn,
is soon exposed to missives' frown.

Behind the gates of poets' loss,
the mystic haze of demented toss;
Survives each peek derived in haste,
and burns the emblems' sour taste.

Correct me if perception lacks,
and covers well its tainted tracks;
For beauty reigns within the heart,
against the cursed lines' depart.