Enchanter of Empty Places

What further words should fall from my mouth?
I'm not ready to take needle and thread to my plump lips,
Yet the spells I chanted don't summon the Djinn.
I've studied the herb and potion,
Contorted my body to call on who they tell me are the Gods,
My soul I gave up for offering in blind hope of blessings.
Still when I step back, take stock,
I see only the jingling hat of a fool,
Perched on the forehead of a pretender.