I Live Comfortably in a Palace of Illusions

I live comfortably in a palace of illusions

The walls are made of tinted glass,

Bright,

Colourful;

Brittle.

All it'd need is a pebble, alas!

And the whole thing would come down;

crumbling apart.

But I will harvest all the sparkly dust

from the ruins, and make a hut.

I'll crawl in proudly.

Die there one day, smiling;

oblivious.

You can't convince me—

that I can roam the earth, eat berries,

be kind, that kindness

costs nothing.

I'll never realise I was acting vain;

Or egotistical, or simply insane.

Yes, I may seem unfair to a lot of you, but 

No I could obviously not have been wrong.

I have every right to condemn your existence,

Question every aspect 

of your being, I am, after all,

on the moral high ground!

Yes, it's obviously irrelevant how

my standards and morals are based

on arbitrary grounds.

I'll never have known what Freedom is, 

And that's completely fine.

I have justifications that make 

Confinement and servitude seem right.

I'll never truly take control of my life,

I'll never have figured where true wisdom lies,

I'll diligently fulfil all the rules— I'm conditioned to follow,

I'll confirm forever, I'll always comply,

I'll even look for reinforcements to my delusion,

simultaneously turning a blind eye,

to pebbles, and helping hands;

Who are they to show me the wrong 

from right? who knows, 

I may even turn —hostile.