Soliloquy

Now that the words are in the open,
Reason and logic bent and broken,
What were the words you could have spoken?

Had life cheated you in disguise
And left you weeping for the highs,
Would the tears have fallen from your eyes?

All that there is, is what seems to be
-In the great ruse of perspicuity-
Much less than what you care to see.

Spring has arrived, in private glory
Shouting- if unheard- its rancid story,
Allowing virtue some sort of allegory.