Occam’s Two Edges

You offer tangled reasons, so polished and neat, a braided theory spun to charm and cage. 

Each smiling hypothesis competes
for mercy on this never ending stage.

But leaner truths sit silent, razor-sharp:
one simple cut reveals what is hiding beneath. No cloaked conditions, nor ornate harp,
just plain intent exposed in barbed wire teeth.

You gift two faces as if both explain, but: Occam tilts his balance toward the pain.

Discard the cluttered stories, spare the fake art; Are you capable of a single honest line?

Or would it stop your pretend heart.