The uncertainty of it all
can be distilled down to the simple facts:
Knowing is believing,
believing may be seeing
but seeing is no more an absolute
than the lies in your eyes.
It's nothing that is an absolute,
nothing but a reminder
of the fact
that you can't see beyond your mirror
and the internal narcissism
you love to love loving that still reflects.
It's all shiny,
like your rings,
you wear while ringing up the past.
Like a trite metaphor
involving a tart
you just simply rot here.
Rhyme out of sync
and revolve around your self
in synchronized orbit.
Twisting into shape
like you, just like you.
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