I let pride
Cloud my judgment
Of you
Safest space
I could place
My delusions
Delay
Decay’s pace,
Decades pass
We react
Like it’s all white and black
And the toll it exacts
Statistician’s
Poll tax
Is the mission
The merchant of death’s
Righteous path
So make safe in the shadows
And count out the facts
Or the gallows
Will bring back
The odds
Ever favor
The gods
As they savor
The fruits of our labor