“What a tangled web we weave
when first we practice to deceive.”
If only we could filter out bad memories
Expressed conflicts that reached crises
Then we won’t have all the bitter cries
In quiet state disparage ourselves to rhapsodise
Enough bursting gusting emotion on the train
Our observational abilities are surely constrained
Why are we still keeping our fierce loyalty to them?
Are we by circumstances to spiritual exile condemn?
How could we untangle ourselves from their web?
The sand was firm and wide, the tide was on the ebb
When pieces of moments together springing out?
We realised something and we just want to shout
Are we deceiving ourselves to make us feel better?
Then perhaps it’s never too late to alter