6d
With hand sculpted verity,
I’ve fixed the flimsiest frame,
Suiting for my narrow view.
Contoured to my convenience,
Auto shaded by defense,
I’ve shaped lies– it’s nothing new.
Contained by intense borders,
My framed lies appear separate,
However, this is untrue.
With self-awareness clouded,
The frame shields me from myself,
But is it not fair to you?
I’ve fixed the flimsiest frame,
Suiting for my narrow view.
Contoured to my convenience,
Auto shaded by defense,
I’ve shaped lies– it’s nothing new.
Contained by intense borders,
My framed lies appear separate,
However, this is untrue.
With self-awareness clouded,
The frame shields me from myself,
But is it not fair to you?
This poem is about those “little white lies” that we tell ourselves (and others) to get by day to day. The "I’ll do it tomorrow"s, the "one more time"s, and the most dreaded…"I’m fine"s.
