The truth was painful, so you buried it
Dug a hole into the earth six feet deep
Nestled it right beside your childhood
Threw some dirt upon its coffin and fashioned a crude cross out of bones and teeth

In death, Truth is just as ugly as it was in life
But you feel safe with it out of sight
You loosen the fist you weren’t aware you were making
You tend to the ****** red crescents from where they’re branded into your palm
You say a few words but what words are left when they’re buried below your feet?

You tell yourself it was a kindness
You swear to yourself that it was a means to an end
But there was no justice when you held its life in your hands
No mercy when you buried your fangs in it’s heart

You convince yourself that it was an act of love
“The truth is painful” and “the world is ugly”
Without the truth, you believe maybe there’s still some beauty in the world
Can convince yourself that the blood red rose on an unmarked grave is a sign you were right

Six feet under, Reality is weeping.