Unfounded

I am (or so I think)
But who can really say?
I shudder for a blink
Then claim naiveté
To keep me from the brink

We are (or so we’re told)
Endowed with our own will
But those who are controlled
By keepers of the till
Can’t see what they have sold

They lie (or so it seems)
To one who never fit
Into their twisted schemes
Ignoring all the shit
To chase unlikely dreams