The fallacy of truth, is that is isn’t a lie.
Always changing, in the blink of an eye.
Holding onto what’s left, from each word you say.
Hoping it will be different, some far off day.
I am a masochist wishing to be broken again.
My torment, retribution, the wages of my sins.
Unintentionally inflicting, the worst kind of hate.
Carry upon my shoulders, the additional weight.
Believable smile stitched upon my face.
Weakening from bloodletting, the draining of grace.
I am where I am, because I choose to be.
Hopelessness engulfing, yet I continue to dream.
I have but myself, no one else to blame.
Given the chance, I would do it all the same.
Always changing, in the blink of an eye.
The fallacy of truth, is that it isn’t a lie.
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