Renaissance Faire Sestina

Some of them like to romanticize war.
In fantasy's form, I wear a corset
While would-be Scots wear kilts.
Many a man wields steel or foam sword
And merchants will speak on illusion of gold;
Their storefronts mere facades.

Poverty forgotten with wealthy facades,
They never saw Iraq, but claim to know war
And discussed whether crusades are waged for spirit or gold.
Rigid social roles traded in for steel-boned corsets
And the swift judgment of a sword.
It's not innocent fun, but they pretend when hands run up kilts.

But it's market day, and we buy the ideals when we purchase kilts,
Pirate ship facades
Cover handcuffs and codpieces for the other sword
Which may, in the parking lot, earn some form of war.
Resentful, I still wear the corset
And no better than them, a famine daughter, pretend I have gold.

If you're playing a pirate, an understanding obsession over gold
Or if playing a prostitute, look up the kilts.
Find the romance: no breath in a corset,
Just a shelf / waterfall bulbous facade,
Giving reason for men to war,
Finding fifty dollars for a basic sword.

Make yourself a hero with your sword.
Sell your wares for gold.
Pretend your chess set is at war.
Think yourself manly in kilt.
Embrace the facades.
Embellish the corset.

The corset is real and you paid the gold;
The sword an object like tartan kilts,
Bringing allegiance to you in the facades of reality's war.