We for Vigilante

Poets are liars,

Poet is a man.

The writer is a liar,

The writer is a man.

Sitting on the stairs

Glancing on the distant stars

Thinking about sound vigils

Asking myself for counsels

The counsels mulled for some money,

Which I didn't give.

The vigils evoked for a tally,

Which I didn't care.

The stars shined for an eternity,

Which I didn't notice.

And the stairway looked folly,

Novice as a shoe.