The Faker
He tried to write in pencil,
The rough draft of his life.
Words spun out of invisible cloth.
Words spoken through visible strife.
His words we could not string together.
Gaps where the stitching stopped.
Ask him one, he’ll say another.
All sense and logic left undone.
As ignorant cheering erupts through the crowd,
Consequences? There are none.
Vulnerable ears poisoned by pencil lead.
As for the rest,
We sat back with locked jaws and fast fingers,
Typing away our frustrations.
Spiteful words ignored, they looked ahead.
In the end, whose responsible,
For the chaos we’ve imposed?
Because we listened to one man,
Who painted the world five shades darker,
With words in pencil, so easily erased.
Fake leader, false throne.
If only we made him write his lies in permanent marker.
~ Feather
