Do you take pleasure in the treasure you think you’ve been given?
Piles of esoteric gold, effervescent gems and slivers of silver;
You parade yourself like a prince to convince people of royalty,
Demanding loyalty to your kingdom of quince at which they wince;
You live in a house of cards built on shameful shards of stone,
Yet you imagine this pretended palace a place of happy showcase,
But tis only thallus labyrinth built by Daedalus with no escape;
Yet you imagine your heart full as you depart from all rationality
In finality of abnormality as you sit empty on your sullied settee.