A World Believed Poem by Kevin Maroney

What have you done,
strange believing one?
Is this your duty,
or have you more, right snooty?

What have you done,
blind believing one?
Why is this your duty,
or have you none more, right snooty?

What will you do,
deaf believing one?
How could this be your duty,
If you don't know of it, right snooty?

Believing one, it's false,
even in hammer and strife it falls,
a grand ideal that works out none,
for the only place to try is one.
It turned to mud and molding clay,
a single man who ran the day.

Of course it seems all right when it's fake and fickle
but it becomes less hoped for when it comes under the sickle.