Hidden Truths Poem by Paul Moosberg

I weep and reap a heap of hope
For us to figure wise
We use, abuse, and muse to make
The truths of mental highs
Dismay of day to lay for lack
Of easing into eyes
That care and stare the dare of death
By fabricating lies

I'm left in cleft with theft in thought
To leave and never try
Distort of sort contort control
That nothing passes by

Passing by, pointless cries
Fabricate, pointless lies
Staying by, blinding highs
Activate, blinding eyes