Trapped In Truth

Line the eye with truth be told,
For the door of mine has turned cold,
But the bold colour of clover in hand,
Shows promise of new born land.
 
Canned feelings like worms is I,
Used as bait to lie for fisher(man).
That’s where the differ has truce,
For the foetus is its own,
But a belly loaned to keep.
 
When sheep bursts with wool,
The farmer comes to take and make theirs.
No care for anything,
Cling onto the handle.
 
So many keys but one door,
So sure there was more,
But lure to the song of the truth’s lies, 
The light behind the door, then dies...