Unreal Deception

Where is the Love?

How can there be when there

  is no love inside itself?

 

Should hate not resonate loud enough

 maybe loathe can lie peacefully  in its place

Pungent even after a gift worn

 from a national feminist holiday

the sun only shines because there

 are more worthy characters on life’s stage

And no love exists on this side of the moon

 

When the truth should have been told

 it lied in the lies inside the skull of insanity

 Steadily smiling as if on camera

 rehearsing a script that doesn’t exist

If only the mirror on the wall

  could reveal all

  it would fall gracefully

But the mirror doth knows

  from where love grows

   and ceases to crack in the presence

    of Pinocchio’s nose

 

I am left out of Love

 

 For if I fit in, then Oh would unscramble

  a most reviled feeling seen in a word