Today, the truths march down the street,
with hats on backward, no shoes on their feet.
They march with pride, but here’s the twist-
no one knows why they even exist.

The judge gives a sentence to the breeze,
accusing silence of speaking with ease.
The verdict? Clear, and spoken loud:
"Too much truth—silence, you're not allowed!"

The poets sell words in bags so thin,
and buyers flock, not knowing where to begin.
Metaphors sold for a dollar or two,
though none of them stick, and all of them...