We draw circles around a mask, our lives.
Each path we give another sweet facade
however might surmise such actions odd.
For we do covet a straight line that thrives.
Such is a world built as linear lines
meant for a passage without a defense.
acrid is a shelter by those who whence
internal facade sooner discard vines.
We stand inside the realm when given time
see such are the eyes of judgment are held
accountable of course our lives do weld
shapes and forms would eyes accept on a dime.
Oh strike us down in fraught shallow schism
It is such absurdity upsets rhythm