The problem with truth is it's real
More than just reality
Reality is a state of mind, it can change
You can feel truth deep down

Deep down where you didn't want to go
Your mind tried, but you said no
"Leave that alone" it whispered
As a new thought rushed in to fill the void

The problem with truth is it's messy
No precise rhythm or rhyme
Just a bundle of soul-certain fact
That turns life into one endless question

Why are 'real' and 'messy' problems?
Maybe they aren't,
Maybe our response is the problem
We see a bit of truth...and still
We live falsely