Truth Tales

Standard

Grip of lip

So not to slip

Not wanting truth

To trip to hit

Through words

Uptight in fright

Of Self the fight

Such wrestling within

I must not say

The things I feel

Must reel them in

For you my friend

Don’t want to know

The evil that we do

We dress in fancy names

Like party games

I am accustomed to

This fate of hating

Things unfair we do

Our darkness never

Should be dared

My friend by who

By me and you

It grows unbidden

Once is born

And this is truth

We live to mourn

The things we never meant

But slew just all the same

 

©K Barr

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