Just the flinch of rejection or challenge
Rational departs and abandons infantile-ism
He’s left prattling away liken that of a little child
That is reading micro-cues thru rose colored glasses
On faces of those listening, pretending to make sense
Hoping to see what falsehood trips the trigger
that finally lulls them over, to his side…of lies.
Poet of the Light © 2019