A pen cannot see the words of satire;
as I condemn the words that I disguise.
I'm a hypocrite of sorts,
penning down are lies,
I'm a liar.
Lying has been my job,
since I stopped trying.
I certify it with my pen,
(that) I lie & I like it,
I'm but a liar.
Rain has often faded my words;
ink pens are my speciality.
I'm in love with it.
Lies are now fading,
but,
I'm still a liar.
Sep 27, 2019
Sep 27, 2019 at 5:07 PM UTC
A pen cannot see the words of satire;
as I condemn the words that I disguise.
I'm a hypocrite of sorts,
penning down are lies,
I'm a liar.
Lying has been my job,
since I stopped trying.
I certify it with my pen,
(that) I lie & I like it,
I'm but a liar.
Rain has often faded my words;
ink pens are my speciality.
I'm in love with it.
Lies are now fading,
but,
I'm still a liar.
How the lies in this world fade with time and people forget that the liar is still a liar. So the liar continues to lie, trying to convince the world that it is but the truth, becoming a hypocrite all but to thyself, living in an illusion, under the mirage of truth.
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