Fuckery

There’s your pretense

Like sterling silver

Something precious gilded

Onto something cheap

Giving it value

There’s your opinion

Ignorance bonded with

Idiocy there’s your

Charade incapable of

Explanation and instead

Showing hand signals

Like a third

Base coach to

A hitter now

I don’t even

Know whom I

Loved because you

Don’t seem to

Be true why

Must I settle

For your fuckery