The Dirty Lie

The fields are green in the country of my mind.
I enjoy painting their every facet.
I close my eyes, to block out the world,
And enter my own independent state.

REM sleep brings much greater powers,
The creator thus, as tall as towers.
One foot wrong could wreck it all.
Never mind, let it fall.

I never asked for the strength to create my own creations,
Oh well, let the work continue.

A sea of immeasurable vastness,
Is crossed in the blink of an observation.
A sunken tomb is passed over,
Without the merest glance.
The fact now long forgotten,
That people there would dance.

I harvest the land in mid-winter,
For then comes the sweetest fruit.

The consequence of my meddling,
Is overlooked with more.
The person life was ogling,
Has gone through the door.
Only to return to this land,
At the beckoning of my hand.

I control all here,
There’s no need to fear.
But even if you do,
I could never really hate you.

The truth is exposed as the lie that it is,
As I lie awake.
Another truth is soon to come,
As soon as sleep will take.


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