The Truth

Perfected in age and practiced in youth,
There is no greater venom than the truth,
To know by the burning light in your eyes,
We are but sad string-less marionettes,
Staggering as much as this old world lets,
Without a purpose and without a dream,
Just an untruth, a fiction and a scream.
To realize that this life is flawed,
To search without finding a loving God.
To discover the world is just a windswept desert.
Is a never-ending torture of hurt.
To love your days and watch them blow away.
It is no wonder most don’t wish to stay.
To be told it’s the Devil or the Lamb,
Is to know that life is a complete sham.
The truth can be too much for some to bear,
As terrifying as gasping for air,
It can often be a poison flower,
Devoid of verity and tasting sour,
Reality has a deadly fragrance.
Able to enslave us all in a trance,
Until finally we are put to sleep,
Unable to feel unable to weep.