veins like vines,
trees like tombs,
pain like pines,
breeze like breath.
nature is you and
nature is i.
I was always one for honesty.
Never a lie slipped from my lips,
No matter the consequences
In which I was sometimes left wounded and
Bleeding onto the white tile.
I know that with each blow I grow continuously weaker,
As a feather is reduced to nothing after being in a heavy downpour.
Was it yesterday that I reverted the pain onto you?
My newfound truths serve me only one purpose:
The power of the lie.
The truth leaves you lying on the floor in a beg for mercy.
No one cares for the truth.
I think of the honest;
The ones crippled from their endeavors;
The ones ****** to the crack of the whip.
What do they need?
More than a lesson,
They simply do not learn.
The feel neither the force of the blow
Nor the blood escaping from their very being.
How I wish them to see!
May the truth be washed by the lies.
May they see the light and grow.
May they gain happiness at the hand of their unconventional success.
May the rain not drown them, but clean them.
May they be released from the bloodbath.
May they open their eyes and see!
this was an experimental piece used for an assignment in my creative writing class, but I developed a strong feeling for it.
— The End —