If We’re Being Honest

Sun, 08/25/2019 - 22:21 -- baymaka


It’s all a lie, it’s all a lie, it’s all


Mandy, it’s me.

I looked in the mirror. 

I could finally see—

past, present, future,

as clear as can be. 




I will not lie, I will not lie, I will not—


The truth that sits below where the scapula can reach. 

The crimson thick certainty that runs until it’s crusted. 

And the lies stick—

but the truth is covered by that damn red cement.



Clean it off, clean it off, clean it

until there’s no stick left. 

No hiding behind subtle nuances that 

make it easy to miss. 

The truth. 


All you had to do was ask. 

This poem is about: 
Our world


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