You lied.
The moon is made of cheese, or so they say,
And Santa rides the night skies in his sleigh.
Your teddies cannot talk, or so they say,
And bluebells ever chime the sun-lit day.
Money answers all, or so they say,
And your credit card can always smooth the way.
Art is just indulgence, so they say,
And love a myth, a gaudy popinjay.
There is no peace in talking, so they say,
Peace only comes from firing guns. They say.
© 2ndwitch, 16/04/14
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