Kith and kin they come in,
Baring teeth and fangs always.
You can't count on people these days,
Accomplices to back stabbing forays.
The mind of one, just like a swan,
On a placid lake floats adrift.
The only way I've found my way out,
Anchor to a thought that doesn't shift.
Nested layers of hidden corners,
Dream without a dream, then within.
Maze of locked doors into more,
A gallery of mirrors trapped in.
Lies over fact as long as you act,
Constantly lie about reality to fit in.
Circles intersect but not connect,
The drudgery of carrying a sin.
Watch your back you may never stack,
Back the layers that led you in.
Scramble for a door, a dead sycamore,
A blackhole with a silent din.
