This apparent excess of
Redundant adjectives
Is the only mean
Of trying to precisely
Illustrate all the nuances
Of such disappointment
When your little kid
Kill her little bird
Unaware of destruction
Or when the pseudo heroes
You paint yourself
In deceitful portraits of hope
Melt into a disgusting sticky goop
Stinking more than
The fingers that moved the brush
Sad is this view
The awakening, realising
That outside you
Everything follows the same
Like a disturbing mirror
Reflecting multi-angularly
The imperfect, ridiculous and biased
When the lies you carve
In rotten wood
Are taken over by worms
Which you, by silly delusion
Took by candy
Suffocating by this dread
You face, understand, shock
Sickening with the taste
Of our inevitable condition
