Some may see
What they
Want to see
And some may judge
A book by its cover,
But of the words inside
They are no lover.

They that judge
By surface
Appearances
Have no desire
To understand.

And they might see
The things they see
Because a mirror
Reflects, it doesn't reject,
And it doesn't judge.

And however you want
To try and twist the
The truth that
You don't know,
Times will change
And the river will flow,
Death a door through
Which we all must go.

What awaits we may debate
Like crickets chirping
When the hour is late.
Like most rhetoric,
The words mean nothing
The feelings behind are
Fleeting and momentary,
And all we are left with
Is a taste in our mouth
Ashes and dreams and
The things gone south.