I lied when I said it.
A perfect façade of satisfaction.
The shelter: built.
A citadel, blocking it out,
Or, rather, a cage blocking it in.
It will not escape me,
Not yet, that is.
The truth.
Truth is I’m not.
Truth is nothing’s wrong,
But truth is nothing’s right.
Truth is no distraction survives long enough to make me forget.
(Though, that doesn’t halt my attempt.)
Truth is I’ve secluded a piece of me for no one to see,
Not even you.
Not yet, that is.
Truth is I can’t quite tell the truth,
For this requires me to tell myself.
Truth is I believe I still have strength to gain.
And truth is…
Maybe someday I’ll tell.
Not yet, that is.
Truth is I lied.
I lied when I told you
Everything’s okay.