The Charlatan

He plays it as a blessing but knows it as a curse,
The Charlatan knows his lines but he does not own the verse.
Borrowed flesh illuminates the projection,
A carcass, the scale of the reflection.

The rabble seen as judge and jury,
But primal fuel yearns to burn more clearly.
Fingerprints fade amongst the mirth,
No island created on the earth.

The quest for moments takes him far,
But the journey home will set him free
To a revelation more spectacular,
That within lies his liberty.

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