Conceit

I burden the reader with some of my grief;
Confessing the depths of self-righteous conceit.
I'm not sure which came first: belief or the fact.
And if it's the former, that makes me a quack!

'Cause the truth I espouse you is one I made up.
To profess it as gospel?  Oh my, I'm corrupt!
So I preface my sayings with, "This I believe..."
And if it proves falsehood, correct it indeed!

But it's lip-service only, I still think it's true.
If not so then why would I say it to you?!
The myriad falsehoods that swim in my mind;
Believing them gospel as if from Divine!

If I shut up my mouth, make my mind void as space...
Well then I suppose there'd be naught to relate.
But the Zero turned One, and the One became Two
And the Two became nonsense espoused unto you.

The whole world is so hypocritically vain!
I mock of them often, although we're the same.
So I guess that does make me a bit worse than them.
And ev-er-y-day I'm repeating this sin.

'Cause they're getting better, while I'm getting worse.
Is this what was meant that the last will be first?
'Cause I used to believe of myself number one.
But I guess I'm the hare, and the tortoise has won.

Oh shameful!  How shameful!  I can't show my face!
The fleet-footed rabbit behind in the race!
And the ones I looked down on are better than me!
Oh shameful!  How shameful!  Now how could this be?!

But this too be falsehood--this specter of pride.
Another shark swims in my mind full of lies.
And the space twixt my ears, were it nothing but void!
But the None to the One to the Two became noise.

And the noise is the din that I find myself in.
Gave birth to conceit, and from that, my chagrin.
'Cause I know that it's bullshit, but what else to say?
This nonsense, I peddle it, ev-er-y-day!

I made up the facts, and I didn't observe.
I made up the proof, from some stuff that I heard.
I made a nice package, presented to you:
A box full of lies I believe that are true.


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Attempt number two, this idea from my last poem is still kicking around in my head.  I'm still trying to develop a vocabulary to communicate it.  This one is better.  I think it's almost there.

Anapaestic tetrameter on this one, I need to challenge myself a bit more.  It's harder for me to write in this meter.