For whosoever cannot see
a very aged hypocrisy
Belies the truth and flies the sheath
I, sir, prefer what lies beneath
The touch of truth upon mere skin
sinks deeper than a lie within
and resonates the sound of love
white flags bright light and flighted dove
and rests the peace of conscience unwound
upon these pieces of life finally found
So yes, sir, I prefer the raw
if only to confer what I saw
The heart that beats
The soul that cries
The passion pushing through the lies;
it's a truth
you might despise.
No comments:
Post a Comment