Internal Realism

Internal realism

There are these times when my mouth, shadowy, speaks before my brain,
There are these times when my brain, often vigilant, wishes my mouth hadn’t pretended,
There are these times when my heart, saddened, cries for those noisy arrows my mouth do not constrain,
And there are these times, so rare, when my heart and mind agree with this cheater, forced upon itself.

The cheater, as an act of treason, serves the coward shade of my Kingdom,
The dishonest and corrupted, hiding in a cave, hurrying out every time my brain forgets to think,
Often it is convicted, for my brain, even late, always makes up through His wisdom,
And even behind, my inner trial always rules for the wounded, by my bow obliged to sink.