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"Stand tall, be strong"....I read it in a book.
His smile was his mask and his heart was his...
Pain.
He stood in his truth and lied to noone...
But sometimes, he felt as though he was his own captor.
The image in the mirror has a shield...
Something to hide behind;
Wipe off the makeup
Remove the mask....breathe.
Every excuse in the book not to go forward
Every excuse in the book not to hold back...
Every excuse for every thing....
Can't lie about something if you never let it happen.
"The truth shall set you free."
If so, why when we tell it do we feel caged?
Why does it feel like chains on your wrist?
Like a ball hooked from the chain on your ankle?
Sometimes a lie can feel like freedom when the truth is a sinking ship.
Ageless, beautiful, passionate...
The words can feel heavy but another lie is told.
Mean, slobbery, foolish..
And the truth shall bring down the tears.
The image in the mirror was restless,
Wiped the makeup off, removed the mask.
Removed one strap, two straps
Unbuttoned one button, two buttons, three....
Clothes to the floor.
The image in the mirror was the truth
No masks, no shields, no protection.
Not sure what to make of it, the clothes came up.
"The truth shall set you free"
Or shall it be your captor?
Wicked Truth or Desperate Lie?
~~grb 2012~~
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