Deceived

The shelves are as fools as my thoughts are troubled.
I return to home, feeling that disturbed
passions against other’s odd presence; coming
again into my life writing about nonsense.

The second act is my bed, few magazines,
money trash, a cup of tea, consolation
for my dense unappreciated reason; vague
nightmare I’ll had once I get asleep tonight.

Third Act. Is tomorrow, new dawn, my canvas,
a great opportunity to overcome
myself and others, the total suppression
of any victim crown that could interfere
the peaceful landscape besieged for us.