PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

If We’re Being Honest


Honesty!

It’s all a lie, it’s all a lie, it’s all

me. 

Mandy, it’s me.

I looked in the mirror. 

I could finally see—

past, present, future,

as clear as can be. 

Me. 

 

Honestly.

I will not lie, I will not lie, I will not—

deny. 

The truth that sits below where the scapula can reach. 

The crimson thick certainty that runs until it’s crusted. 

And the lies stick—

but the truth is covered by that damn red cement.

 

Reality. 

Clean it off, clean it off, clean it

until there’s no stick left. 

No hiding behind subtle nuances that 

make it easy to miss. 

The truth. 

 

All you had to do was ask. 

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.