A Fact

A fact’s a fact, but there’s more than that,

It is not alive, yet sometimes made to be,

Always built with precision, certainty and certitude,

 It can be correlated, filtered or fleshed out,

Depending upon the contour its designers choose,

Advertised in various aggregations, collections and clusters,

Where the larger groups contain many analogues,

The more obscure hold very few,

One can arrange data by infinite design,

From the basic and primitive,

To those with high degrees of interconnectivity,

Conversely affinities, at times, can be seen,

 Promoting chaos and the absolution of scheme entirely,

Then there are those that ignore context,

Taking words from their proper home,

Tweak, tune, buff and hone,

Distorting tense and destroying meaning,

Offering up this amalgamation

The mind is tricked and duped, deceived and lied to,

 Coerced into accepting the authors’ contention,

 Unwittingly conspiring with a fallacious point of view,

But the fact of the matter cannot be skewed,

When held in the framework from where it grew