Perhaps each word spoke is just a fool's lullaby
Painted beauty and illusioned dreams
Harkening to the child to spur their dreams
When lives change and the rattles shatter
Babe's awakening screaming without distractions
Without a question of the why
And upon realizing themselves
Learn they aren't children at all
And each lullaby has been deception to stay their mind
Such horror and betrayal to run the streams
To feed the world and water us all
Perhaps these dreamers lives are meant to stay asleep.

Penned by my hand on the 25th of Lanosian, in the year 143 MA.