In realms where shadows dance, conspiracy's embrace, A tale unfolds, a curious and bewildering space. A cadre convinced, the world a flattened stage, Where truth and reason waltz upon an edge.
In whispers dark, a notion takes its flight, Where schoolyard echoes blend with spectral light. A disbelief in shootings, deemed a hoax, As skepticism's fire on society pokes.
Elections, too, within their dubious gaze, A rigged charade, a cynical maze. Yet, the narrative weaves, a tapestry unclear, In the minds of those who hold this sphere.
Now, behold the spectacle of sport's grand bowl, The Super Bowl, they claim, under a shadowy control. The NFL, they say, in puppetry entwined, A rigged spectacle of the sporting kind.
Taylor Swift, a name within this grand façade, A Pentagon's operative, a role bizarrely odd. A covert dance, a liberal plot untold, In the stage where conspiracy takes hold.
Yet, in this script of curious design, A symphony of disbelief, a dance malign. For truth may twist, and tales may turn, In minds where skepticism ceaselessly churn.
So, let the world spin on its axis true, As theories wild weave their peculiar view. In the theater of thoughts where shadows play, Conspiracies dance, but truth finds its way.
YOU ARE READING
The Tortured Poets Department
PoesíaPoems about the world's most famous cat lady, the queen of Poetry, Taylor Swift.
