i imagine things simple: void of inner-contention, dissension, & divide
conception/misconception taunt every sight in my eyes
she's ever reaching for a foothold on too-fragile foundations
her warring perceptions topple cultures & nations when else they would rise
like gangrene in a wound, lady misconception stains generations
faces familiar & not so soiled by warped, false conception
she's choking me down 'til i'm naught but self-deception
she pollutes my vision & dims my perception
misconception damns me a citizen in her warring worldwide
& reality is that slippery word that morphs under scrutinized pride
what we all hide is the foothold she clings to, my mistress begging bride
in the regions where we hide our dark is where she plants her poison prayers
it's in those shadowy recesses that she sells her fiend-breeding wares
i wonder:
if i gave up my dark & tore assumption out of my heart
would my lady self-deception also fall apart?
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