Oh where are you at?
And in what state of being
Will I see you amongst the dexterous?
Or the fledglings in the grass
Or may I have to ask Alice to seek you,
Through the Looking Glass
Deception, what body do you take?
When I can’t seem to get my story straight
Deception, in what form will you arrive
Will it be behind tears, pinched at the eyes?
Will you confess in a superfluous way?
Or lie down in a recumbent way
And Deception will sustain
I was warranting hearts and rhetor-ifying souls
Shutting down shop while unlatching doors
I was pulling weeds with the Jesters in The Wind in the Willows
I was hidden behind sheets, pilot lights, and soft, comfy pillows
But where were you at? Deception asks looking askance
I admit to not knowing and admit to not remembering
Honestly, I was busy following you
Withholding an unasked question
Exploiting and stretching on truth
Downplaying a game of concealment
Disguising an interrogative sleuth
Clouding an inquisitive equivocation
Overshooting an ambiguous turn…
Simpering, Deception sneaks in a blurb,
Knowing and Accepting are Two Parts of Truth
And with these words a flick of a grin
Traipses across Deception’s face
Why do we confess to be verily verily bent?
On the lady swinging her scales
Blindly, with sword, in cement
When we are really intent