What a tragic party.
Snacks are lies and flattering remarks
all revealed as false by the filling- tasty.
Yes then the cantankerous offensive
lets loose.
When the wine and whiskey successfully
probe for the truth.
What a party, what a gas!
Inline to cry after you see the others
misfortune and laugh.
And when the evening freezes
and your brow stiffens like season´s last frost.
You´ve seen truth as scorpions under
Lies such sweet desert rocks.
Now you´ll return no more to pretend,
to the cold and empty.
Illusions once your loudest friends,
leave you now in silence so gently.
The sweet package is you wrapped in
pain and grief.
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