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The truth can't be seen,
it hides in lies,
and slides between lines,
wrapped in warm coats of downy fiction,
Softening sharp edges, and masking stark realities.
It does not wish to be heard,
lashing out with serrated tongue,
gouging long painful rivers,
leaving exposed wounds,
And raw agony.
They say the truth will set you free,
but even this is a lie,
it leaves only questions,
and makes you a slave to a harsh cruel world,
where innocence is raped and torn away,
Exposing the stark bones of fact.
Slowly poisoning the child inside,
it creates nothing,
and only seeks to destroy the world,
Living in a stagnant mockery of sanity.
Bitter tears taste sweet on the tongue of
one who has forgotten how to cry,
because they thought there was no more grief,
believing it died with that sweet inner
rhapsody known as childhood,
that melody that is heard only once,
that has to be savored before it slips away,
Dancing out of reach like a ghost in the wind.
What is the price for this harsh mistress know as Truth?
Is it the glazed look of a lush who drinks
because he wants no more?
Is it the boy who cries himself to sleep
at night, feeling lost and alone,
Adrift in a world where knowledge came to soon?
They say the ultimate truth lies in death,
That with it all things are revealed,
but would we die if no-one told us we had to?
achilles_tendencies · Fri Dec 01, 2006 @ 08:28am · 0 Comments |
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