Reality

People use Occam's Razor to cut out little pieces,
Little cookie shapes, for their homemade thesis,
Thinking that the one's been given must be incorrect,
Taking from other people ides, to resurrect,
They expect // everything to be explained by logic law or myth,
And then we go and turn around our ideas so that the fit,
Our own reality is made so that everything is stable,
But we can see the truths that upset our bedtime fable,
Creepy little things that like to slip into subconscious,
Drive us slowly mad or be rejected by unlogic,
This defense is then used to assault the minds of many,
Bringing about for everyone an accepted reality,
Scientists and Priests are fighting the same fight
Telling each other about who is wrong and right,
Casting aside those who claim the unseen,
We call them insane lock them up lose the key,
But it isn't always this sometimes we embrace,
Idea's that break boundaries which reality will replace,
Because for every answer given exist infinite quests,
Doesn't matter how hard you work you will not receive rest,