There is so much that is not true.
Am I to be the judge?
I can barely lift my foot
From truth’s black slippery sludge.  

To take the risk of being wrong
Is something only done
For sake of single, Golden Truth,
a jewel so many shun.

But risk I will, and gladly so
And never hide behind
A claim to subjectivity
Insisting truth is MINE.  

“My truth,” you say. If truth may be,
Admitting no hypocrisy.
“My truth,” a murderous appetite
consuming both wrong and right,
til white is black, and dark is light.