Hollow trances on a step without wings
Stitching the pieces back into the mind
Never could tell it like it really was
It was just something you'd have to find
He was there when the storybook opened
Trying to read the words as I scribed
He warned me about all the charmers
Whose talk was just meant as a bribe
Now he owns half of the brain of another
And the other half he sells to the thieves
If he thinks for himself it won't matter
Unless it's something he wishes to believe
On hollow steps in a trance without wings
With images that broke up the mind
I never knew what it really was
But it was something I thought I could find
Coming out of a shell of judgement
Into a place that sells plastic wings
Never witnessing self indulgence
Till I saw what deception can bring
Every page he turned was then folded
The story faded before it could end
I didn't write it the way it was spoken
Being deceived by my feather pen
As I sit in a trance with hollow wings
Closed the book and looked skyward bound
I know now it's not what it really was
But something I wish I had never found
-Shabetei
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