New Lies ...

The clock strikes twelve, and we raise a glass,
Draped in old habits, cloaked in feeble cheer,
To toast a future built on shaky pasts.
A "new broom sweeps clean" oh, what a farce,
For here we march, the same yet somehow changed,
With fireworks masking all our broken fears.

The air explodes with light, yet silent fears
Lurk close, like shadows in an empty glass.
What truly shifts? What parts of us have changed?
The same old vows, proclaimed with fervent cheer,
Are swept aside as time unveils the farce:
A gleaming path that loops us to the past.

We wander roads recycled from the past,
Each step encumbered by familiar fears.
A snake devours its tail, what perfect farce!
Good intentions gleam, as fragile as a glass,
And optimism teeters into cheer
That crumbles when we find we've hardly changed.

A "Happy New Year!"... what has really changed?
We stagger forward, tethered to the past,
Believing we can outpace it with cheer.
But vipers bite, their venom fed by fears,
And old mistakes reflect in every glass.
The promise of renewal proves a farce.

And yet, we dance. We love a pretty farce,
The illusion that our hearts and minds have changed.
A toast to better days, with cracks in glass,
While dragging corpses of the weary past.
We claim new truths but trip on ancient fears,
Our laughter stitched from threads of hollow cheer.

The cycle turns: despair gives way to cheer,
And hope ascends ... a brief, beguiling farce.
The clock resets but cannot quell the fears,
Nor mend the parts of us that won’t be changed.
A brighter year? We cling to tarnished pasts,
And watch old habits bloom in every glass.

The glass now empty, drained of hollow cheer,
The past returns ... unchanged, a stubborn farce.
Our fears persist, and nothing truly changed.