In theses days of desolation
In times of obfuscation,
Where facts are twisted
And truth is bent,
And so many are disingenuous
And others simply pretenious,
How do we struggle through
This putrid, polluted quagmire,
Of rapscallion beings
Who wish to distract us,
From our path towards our dreams
Simply because they are,
Existing just to be contradictory and mean,
I find those who act like this obscene,
For they hope it will allow them
To prosper from the likes of you and me,
By hoping we’ll give up
And become hermits within our retreats,
Leaving them a clear path
For them to achieve and succeed.
fauxcroft 
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