In all honesty
There is nothing more terrifying
Than the raw truth,
Drenched in its own
Guilty essence,
Covered in the blood
Of my heart
To which it clamps,
So tightly,
In its bony fist.
It is right in front of me,
Staring with worn,
Faded out, red eyes, puffed up
With wrinkles
From withering away,
Steady and still
In our endless battle.
And that look reveals it all,
The yearning,
As I stand there, avoiding eye contact.

I'm not ready to face the truth that kills me;
If I do, I might actually die.