Real art
Is a finite blessing
Of the truth
Which bears
No point

Other than
Being resistant
To these souls
Who dare not
Test

Their cry
Of broken
Persistence
Faceless
As it is written

In a guise
Of glorious fiction
Beyond sanity
Hope
Or a cure –

One final lie
Off their chest
With failure
Veiled
As its message

So the youngest
Learn
What’s sacred
Like gospels
Scared of their own.

– J. Pigno