Poem 58: Liar

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I am the world's best liar.

I'm not saying this because I forthrightly lie, no. Not to the people around me.

I lie to myself. I lie because I have to. Because how else am I supposed to get myself out of bed? How else do I live half alive and stuck in my mind?

   I tell myself I'm fine.

            That's the best lie I can think of



Words Of A PoetOnde as histórias ganham vida. Descobre agora