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O, Man of mine, they will never understand.
Do not fear the future from where you stand.
Many will whisper lies into your ears.
Machiavellian words and slight-of-hand,
These dubious enfeebled puppeteers.
‘tis easy for a man to interfere,
Destroy the happiness they covet here,
Remember, they do not sleep with your choices.
They seed their lies and simply disappear,
These spurious disreputable voices.
Close your eyes, imagine your future days,
Pay attention, where your happiness lays,
Beyond their miserable comprehension,
Paying to that same tune the piper plays.
Trapped inside their despondent dimension.
Pay no heed to those who blubber and wail.
They cannot see where they struggle and fail.
They would rather undo your pride and success
Than to repair the lies their tongues avail;
And the stench of their own untended abscess.
Again, I say, they will never understand.
They will knock you down right there, where you stand,
Fill your head with hesitations and fear,
The disillusioned who try to command -
But you have cut the strings of these puppeteers.
M TERESA CLAYTON
