Life’s Lemons

holding echoes with borrowed hands
you plan ahead, just like they told you to

the rips in the sky bemuse the thoughtful clouds
savage Ravens weave through dreary rainbows
with no intention of relocating their homes

how many fingers does it take to accuse the innocent?
truths oppress the principles of the opportunists
they believe what simplicities prophesise

you burn with the anger they’ve made you feel
and partake in heated arguments with the fallen stars

under the ancient Lemon Tree,
hope has been planted below its citrus scented perils

clawing at the delusions dusted into the soil
the dirt under your fingernails is proof of your attempts
to turn the tables, into logical placements