Your great mistake,
Is what makes you,
Truly fake.
Your chancing, hustling
Bullshit tree,
Is all you think,
Is left to me.
But all you have,
You learned elsewhere,
And can't be
What you are not.
And I don't care,
What you have got,
Or hope to be,
Or scheme & plot.
You're only here,
To mark me out,
As one that shines,
Illuminating all that is.
So, shift & shuffle,
Silence, roaming,
Hoving into view,
All that's left,
For me, to do.
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