To be a living lie

Gathers not but scatters, Lacks interior laughter, Promote baneful attitudes, And a double-edge sword, Such is a living lie. Constitutes negative “let us”, Fondly in “we will not” syndrome, Exclaims transient elevated stiff-necked, Loots identities, Blows with the wind wherever it go. Attitudinal maneuver notwithstanding, But when persistence persist, And the conscience terminally infested by it, The self eludes perception. Nothing is left but to live a lie. The human person has an origin. When all tiles with it is lost, What else, but a substitute is sort. A non-copy of the true animator, Then, living stops and the self just exist. When our past leaves the radius of consciousness, When history looses touches, When no negative-copies for prospect snapshots, When struggle eludes perception, The self lives a lie.