With hand sculpted verity,
I’ve fixed the flimsiest frame,
Suiting for my narrow view.
Contoured to my convenience,
Auto shaded by defense,
I’ve shaped lies– it’s nothing new.
Contained by intense borders,
My framed lies appear separate,
However, this is untrue.
With self-awareness clouded,
The frame shields me from myself,
But is it not fair to you?
-
Author:
FallingAwake2 (
Offline) - Published: January 30th, 2025 01:18
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem is about those “little white lies” that we tell ourselves (and others) to get by day to day. The "I’ll do it tomorrow"s, the "one more time"s, and the most dreaded…"I’m fine"s.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 18
Offline)
Comments4
Very powerful expression 👍🏻🙏🏻🕊
thank you so much, friend, for reading and sharing your kind thoughts
You are most welcome 🙏🏻 and thank you for considering mine 👍🏻🕊
Over time they become more frequent and bigger as we try to cover the initial ones, and then become a barrier we get stuck behind. Powerful piece of writing.
BRAVO
White lies can easiy grow and become gray then black. A good write with metaphor. Very nice
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.