Nature of Truth
A shell,
Haunted.
I pull gears, yank levers,
A smile, a laugh.
I turn knobs, push buttons,
A step, a jump.
My day, spread thin.
Preparing, maintaining the shell.
Presenting.
Confidence, control, poise.
Beneath,
Wandering within myself,
Looking to find that piece.
A minute particle,
A sliver of a sliver of a sliver,
My soul.
And I wrap it,
Hold it tightly
Within the deep folds of myself.
Constantly protecting my soul with my Truth,
Sheltering it from the outside,
A world beautiful, yet cruel.
And my Truth
Riddled in fear and worry,
Guarded and reserved,
Is on show for the world.
My Truth:
I am human.
Keeping my Nature at bay
And away from my soul.
My Nature:
I am an animal.
Within the depths of my Truth it stirs,
Crushed by the necessities of the world,
The need for civility,
Ready to break its cage.
I hide within my shell,
Wrestling to keep the balance.
Ugliness.
Beauty.
My Nature.
My Truth.
Keeping me alive.
But I ask:
Which is beauty?
Which is ugly?
And I hide this struggle from the world.