Expose...

Expose

Mount the gibbet like a saint,
With sins of Lucifer’s acquaint.
A rosy picture you paint,
With touches of a hidden complaint.
The bliss when the light goes faint,
With an unseen face will there be no restraint.

The wasted youth that you squander,
The cheap women that gave you gender,
The misguided imagination that you plunder,
The manipulating lies that make you tender,
But the greatest of mistakes where you blunder,
Is the hypocrisy that makes you meander.

Remove the veil you put for parades,
And bury it with the blackened spades.
Stop the game of your solitary Charades,
For guessing yourself is no honest trade.
Expose the hypocrisy of your masquerades,
Before the stench of it burns to Hades.

dOm

Couldn't get to sleep so I wrote myself a poem. (actually I was broaching the subject matter of the poem with another person in mind but I decided to judge myself first) Oh well, I guess I am becoming too harsh on over critical on myself. At least I think I remain only as a hypocrite to myself. Yawn. Who cares about anything else other than sleep now?