Mirages from the Desert

The dark doth not dispel,

For your words can not compel.

Each precious morsel you leave behind,

Keeps my soul trapped and in a bind.

Even the crumbs from the table,

Forever played words from a fable.

Shall this fade as seasons pass?

Shall my heart be free at last?

What is real and what is fake?

What mirages do my maker make?