Shells with Flesh Inside

All facts are beliefs
All beliefs are facts
The sky being blue is a myth
That can be made more true by prayer

We rise and fall on market news
The numbers placed on chaos
Of each illusive point of view
Collected as perspective

Why do I feel joy
When there are soldiers killing babies?
How can my gifts be used
When there's nothing I understand?

I make it—it's mine
The pod a world of others
That falls to dust
In my hot breath