Court Room Of Conscience

Truth vs. Lies

In the courtroom of conscience, two adversaries rise, One cloaked in honesty, the other in disguise. Truth stands tall, its light piercing, clear, While Lies weave shadows, a tapestry of fear.

The jury of peers, our own fragmented reflections, Await with bated breath, the trial's directions. The prosecutor, Reality, lays out the case, Exposing every deceit, every false face.

The defense, a slick illusionist, crafts its plea, Spinning stories, a web of what we wish to be. Lies, it argues, are but shields from the ache, The harshness of living, the risks we dare not take.

Truth, unflinching, holds up a mirror, Reflecting back at us, what's hidden in error. "It's the wounds we dress with lies that fester, decay, But the cuts we clean with truth heal in the light of day."

Lies counter, slyly, "But what of the dreams we've spun, The comforting veils 'neath which we've run? Can you fault the heart for wanting reprieve, From the relentless sting of what we perceive?"

The room spins in a dizzying dance of moral debate, Each soul in attendance can relate. To the seduction of lies, the relief they can bring, Against the stark dignity of truth's unforgiving sting.

The judge, our will, solemn and just, Considers the verdict, in whom shall we trust? To live a life in the shadow of deceit, Or to walk in the painful steps of the truth we meet?

And so the gavel falls with a thunderous clack, Resonating deeply, there's no turning back. "The truth," it declares, "shall be your guide, For in its harsh light, no part of you can hide."

The court adjourns, the crowd disperses, Each individual bearing their own curses. But in the end, it's the truth we must face, For in its harsh clarity lies our saving grace.