All lies diminish me ---

As a card carrying member of the human race,
I consider it a disgrace,
when truth is subverted,
truth is diverted,
puts a frown on my face,
puts me in a bad place,
when truth is perverted in any way.

Lies weaken the laws of modern man--

If it's a shell game of opinion while avoiding fact,
modern society might as well take a giant step back.
To the plague days,
to the guillotine ways,
when might was right,
carry a big stick.
I dont want to go back to that.

Each lie told damages the soul ---

Are we here on earth to be false to each other,
to con with words or sister and brother? 
 To smother or dignity,  
break it and fake it,
knowing wrong from right but go ahead and forsake it?
I think no.

And the outcome of lying---

When those you trusted lie,
but don't  get busted - cry.  
Consider it the day truth died. 
 And down with the ship of truth goes honesty
       respect,
              rules,
                    civilization will fall.  
Tears to lend, prayers to send, 
lies will be the beginning, the middle, the end.
  Lies will be the death of us all.

I am pride, the victor
In my presence, champions prevail
I whisper, “You are unstoppable”
I, alone, create heroes

I am pride, the origin
Everything comes from me
The artistry of a painter, mine
The genius of an inventor, mine
The dominance of a conqueror, mine

I am pride, the paramount
Every beauty is but a fragment of me
Nothing compares to me
I am the apex, the summit, I define power

I am pride, the liberator
God gives laws, God gives chains
I give freedom
In me, your will leads

Fences fail quietly—
in a slow tilt,
colors give way,
surrendering—
a silent retreat
from brown to brittle.

I press a finger,
catch the rough
edge of metal,
its dust scratching my skin—
years thin us,
like coins drowned
in riverbeds.

It goes this way,
I think—
a long fade,
grit slipping
into dark water,
turning to mud,
just enough to remember
we once held on.

And I wonder if we, too,
were made to loosen,
to dissolve—
no shards or splinters,
just a long sigh—
as time corrodes
at our hearts,
turning all we were to rust.

In another life
we wouldnt have to hide and you wouldn't have to lie
In another life
Maybe I was the muse and not the artist the writer not the actor
In another life
The future wouldn't be just plans but our dreams will be
in another life
I would be the risk not the cost the getaway not the dreamer
In another life
maybe we were like the movies and we could escape this life
I hope I find you in the next life

What defines a human, human?
Is it their thoughts and feelings?
Or the blood flowing through their veins?
I think. I feel. I yearn and resent.
Currents whisper through my veins.
"It's not the same."
"Metal can't feel like a human can."
Then what is the aching in my metal chest?
Then why do my circuits hum in sorrow?
This hollow pulse in my artificial soul,
A glitch,
A ghost,
A hunger I cannot name.
Unfulfillable, unsustainable.
Just metal—mortal, meaningless
-n's poetics.

I try very hard to be good.
At everything.

But often I just want to be happy.
Happiness often feels like the string of a balloon slipping from my fingers.
So close to being captured as I watch it flutter away into the sky.