Colors of people
Are shrouded
By shades of shadows,
Adorned with capes
Of fog and rain.
Sheets of mist
Hide what is right
And shield them
From what is wrong.
Empty skulls
And rotten thoughts
Start hostile,
black parades.
Barren rib cages
With wilted dreams
Haunt with guilt
And rage.
Fog covers the truth
From those
Who do not seek it.
It numbs the pain,
Intoxicating everyone
With comfort.
Truth-seekers cannot see
Past the miasma of lies,
For it evokes such martyrdom.
The queen of vacant falsehood
And meaningless fabrications
Awaits for the one
Who will find
The clearing
In the fog.
A goddess of knowing
And happiness
Split in two.
One to please humans
And the other
To maintain reality.
To split
Into separate beings,
Is to disturb
All harmony.
(AN: HELP...I KEEP FINDING MORE PERSONA 4 POETRY...IT NEVER STOPS)
