Fake Goods

What you picked up at the junction Will end up serving no function, Mine; The Bold Voice of Lord God’s seer, Though the message might stab like spear… Tears for the buyer of fake good, Who’d seen it and forgot to brood; Our markets they infiltrate, More items we adulterate The products whose cost is dear: Because they spellbind, no fear! But not for who questions ask, Sellers taking to a task For fake goods we keep longing And bought: a sense of belonging, As it radiates fine texture… Why need I instinct’s lecture?