Gas lamps have been lit
Pointing and wagging fingers
Claiming observations and facts are erroneous
Always being told things were the opposite
Violating the brain in secret
Once the correct words came out
Faces begin to steam
Some were from phony friends
Fairweather attitudes were the aptitude for deception
All have forced me to craft a shield even when my correctness could pierce through armor of pyrite hues
Sometimes I’d rather be right especially when I KNOW I was right
Ospreyshire's Realm 