When I offer you the truth
that rolls sweetly off my tongue,
you freeze up in shock,
like a diabetic whose blood sugar
has far surpassed
the point of safety.
You take it in your hands,
unsure of what you're really holding.
You have never seen the truth
so up close before.
You spin it round,
examining it,
searching for the cracks
you know must exist
because you see them in your own
twisted "truths".
My truth is without
a bump or fault.
You bring it slowly to
your own tongue,
tentatively poking it out for
a sliver of taste
only to find that
the truth is undeniably
too sweet
for the taste buds of one
who is so used to the saltiness
of lies and deceit.
YOU ARE READING
Lessons Learned
PoetryThese poems are not organized in a linear fashion. Some of the last poems happened first, some of the first poems happened last, and some of the contradicting poems happened all at once. However, I figured this organization of it might be a bit easi...
