The Touch

 Everything psychic
Totally moronic
Talking to the dead
Why not try the living instead
The future foreseen
The past where it has been
It’s all done for cash
It’s all balderdash
All sequins and lies
From loved ones who’ve died
Charlatans and conmen
Silver to enter the lions den
Working on our fears
Swinging from our tears
Manufacturing hope
For those who cannot cope
Spirits will be blamed
They all should be ashamed

Then; She touched me

Toothache driving me insane
Shoved into crazy by all the pain
She placed her hand upon my cheek
She whispered softly “Please don’t speak”
With her other hand she rubbed her ear
She smiled as the pain just disappeared
The pain, the insane, she stole like a thief
A strange dichotomy; Proof always helps one’s belief