Grandeur of Deception

Souls sowing self-satire,
Affections annotated as axioms.
Muffling sentiments, mixing senses,
Do I know my dawn?

Be-lie-ve every season’s fruit,
A surface savoured as sweet,
The kernel, swiftly sour,
The ripeness, disagreed.

For one who is endowed a psychopath,
Mistaken as a minimalist of empathy,
We are weaving fallacies as a fabric,
Once rustic, now rugged.

An exquisite error once committed,
With redundancy of the truth,
Eases into the echoes,
For I was a fool.

Written by Meena for MTTN
Inspired by Nikita Bhonsale for MTTN
Photo Credits: https://www.antonia.lv/en/themes/abstraction/deception-10351/