I will not question your remiss.
You cannot help your folly in
A frenzied, fashioned,
frivolous
Profusion of profession.
Within a welt of weariness
Without a weathered wariness
You seethe a certain
innocence
That escalates confusion.
How could I doubt?
Why should I shout?
What kind of lout would
question?
To taunt or mock
Would cause a shock
But garner no confession.
I will not cry
Or alibi
Or grumble in disgust.
Sometimes the fat
Is rendered to
A simple act of trust.
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