A dying breed, the ones who know
They do not see the emperor's clothes,
And if to sophistry we turn,
We doom ourselves to never learn.
Yet still there is a charm in tales
We tell ourselves, so lies prevail.
When our reflections don't align
It is our eyes we redesign,
While our perceptions large distend
And we continue to pretend.
I too am guilty, for I find
Dissembling to be so kind.
Forever naked we will roam
For such delusions find no home.