Let´s figure words is but a maze, content
to formulate, linger on and contemplate,
-themselves deceived to give consent-
a haze, designed to lure and infiltrate.

A monologue of sorts set to be,
upon a quite precise and timely scale,
rearranged, into a higher key;
a dialogue to be, released on bail.

What role is mine in this tumultuous play?
My manuscript, a prey for fading ink?
Where is my repartee, my piece of clay?
A proof-read sketch for you to read in print.

I make a coup d´etat within myself,
out-source me, to an inner well of wealth!