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Bones MAG
my only pure friends are the skeletons in
my closet. in the end,
they're isolated in truth.
we spend so much time
flossing the lies from our teeth,
blind to see that these ivories
were made for integrity.
could it be our flesh exists only to
absorb deceit,
and our blood only to preserve lies?
to stagnate dishonesty until a falsified truth is extracted.
until this extracted truth crawls into our framework.
here, there are no lies.
i dream of the skeletons in my closet.
yes, my dreams are only bones, to dance among veracity.
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"Don't be afraid to stand for what you believe in, even if that means standing alone". -Anonymous