|CC image by Aktiv Phil via Flickr|
By: Eve Estelle
In our years of living,
Be they few or greater,
We've all known the feeling;
The anxiety, the pain.
Your hands start to shake, your palms start to sweat,
Your mind goes blank, and your voice all but breaks;
You must answer them now, but fear is so strong,
The words you've just spoken feel so.. wrong.
Uneasiness reigns, your eyes dart around,
Your responses are quick, but they bury you deeper;
Should you just tell the truth? But what will they say?
For this one hasty secret, the mountain grows steeper.
Time passes, and the guilt fades,
All too soon this act is repeated;
Again guilt reigns - you've become quite the weeper.
For this one hasty secret, your mind is its keeper.
The years go by, and you hardly notice..
..The pain you've caused, the trust you've lost.
It's become routine, and you're at your coldest;
You speak lies like you sleep: calmly and often -
But in the back of your mind, you're aware of the cost.
Time continues on, though with little kindness;
The guilt has returned, and returned it shall stay.
You've ceased your lies, but the past still remains;
Your conscious grows heavy, more with each day.
It's a vicious cycle - one witnessed too often;
Lying, in truth, it sometimes is needed;
The power to lie is a skill you should keep,
The dangers, though, must always be heeded;
For the will to lie is a grave buried deep.