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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #1939819
liars from the liar's perspective

We barely can see them, the sky is so dark.
Black is our heart, as tree is to bark.
The ravens, they circle high in the granular sky.
The truth idles our tongues, may as well purpose a lie.

We thought of ourselves and existence as radical.
The course of our lives had nothing to do with practical.
Delusions and dreams all dressed up in magical.
We were clueless the skill of our enemies was tactical.

Friends that we had, we don’t have any more.
Living free of our freakish facade, they showed us the door.
Idle loves all ran away, fearing guilt that could stain.
We would have run too, but there was no more to gain.

They were hot on our trails, our rotting corpse to reek.
The fearful living we led treads a mountain too steep.
The lies and the cost; it was an ocean too deep.
We lay in the beds we constantly made, yet never could sleep.

We can’t blame the judge for the executioner’s song.
We would have sung it ourselves, if truth could be known.
We thought we were living, but alas we’re all wrong.
The truth was so short, but the lies were so long.

Let us tell you a story, of pride and of wit.
They helped us rewrite the words; we couldn’t read any of it.
We lied when we cheated, and cheated when we lied.
Then we swallowed our words, we choked, and we died.
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