I conclude they have some kind of spyglass
It lets them see just what they want to see
It is some kind of refractive device
That so distorts their perception of me
Ah! Perception, perception, perception
It's everything and nothing absurdly
Theirs puts me somewhere I am not, or worse
Missing from where they believe I should be
With their minds made up - they always know best
Come watch me in the prison of their game
Hard walls of their smiles; fooling the rest
Seeing their blind jury put me to blame
And so Lo and behold I will trip up
Its exactly what us mortals will do
And they on high with their godlike spyglass
Can claim - without bias - they always knew
And then I'll ask of myself; self doubting
What it is in me that alters their view
Dresses me as a clown in their minefield
And so makes all their predictions come true
Don't they see me when I am trapezing
Without netting to save me - to belong
No, no, I suppose that never happens
And their spyglass? Well it couldn't be wrong.
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Author:
Stephen Fitall (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 3rd, 2018 13:29
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 30
- Users favorite of this poem: aj_goddard, Lorna, sylviasearcher.
Offline)
Comments3
I really enjoyed your poem, It was a really good read, so true in a lot of ways Well done you wrote it well
Thank you kitcat. I was nervous about posting it but am glad I did.
Just found this Stephen...... am loving its composition and wisdom ....
Thank you Lorna. Very kind.
I hear lots of folk are born with this spy glass affliction... It's called I'll see it when I believe it....
Silly folk who don't see
What they think shapes
What they see!
And what they see
Is what we will be
To them at least.
But what about to me?
Damn those spy glasses!
I want to be free!
If I hide in a Forest
Where no one can see
Released from their thinking
I can be me
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