Vain

Fickle man,
fickle world,
fickle silence that can almost be heard.

Fickle sadness,
fickle ground,
fickle knowledge tasting what can't be found.

Fickle wishes,
fickle dreams,
fickle eyes knowing not what they've seen.

Fickle feelings,
fickle plans,
fickle fingers touch my outstretched hand.

Fickle rainbows,
fickle smiles,
fickle flowers that I've smelled all the while.

What is this world?
Is all of this true?
(I'll bet you think this poem's about you).