The Truth is Dead

The truth died the day I rose up

I raised my voice, I stood up.

And I buried it.

Covered it with a blanket

of happiness, of love.

I buried that dark truth

Truth that hurt me, truth that killed me everyday.

I was weak but not helpless

And I killed  the truth for good.

It gave me strength, made me stronger. 

The truth lied.

The truth is killed.

The truth is dead.


5 thoughts on “The Truth is Dead

      1. Wise words. I’ve learnt to opt for the version of ‘truth’ which is most optimistic and puts me in the best light regardless of the other person. That way I stay ‘sane’, otherwise the alternative is too horrific. Not me, him.

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