Truth

Words hold truth Nothing more, nothing less And the truth can be painful So, also, can be words Cutting with harsh precision A knife with a wit-laden edge Hacking and chopping Away at our perceived reality But the truth can be comforting Consoling and quiet A soft murmur, a silent presence For what would reality be? Without words …And without truth Constricting, too, may the truth be Suffocating and cold All one can think about, can imagine In the silence of the night Conversation and talk invading the mind An alien force Determined to take over Replaying in the form of dreams As memories, companions and adversaries alike Can such things be Warm thoughts and hazardous worries Occupying like space in one’s soul And yet, even as words are thrust Like a dagger into one’s mind and heart Twisted and pushed further in still In one painful, sickening ac As for redemption And judgment Alike do we call In the depths of our being Crying Crying Crying For hope, for help For someone to perceive And help us discern The truth in our words And the truth in theirs As false thoughts, false actions, false feelings Even then the truth they can seem Truth maybe not to you But truth to someone, somewhere they may be But truth is tricky Is fickle, a flirt What is truth to you To another, fabrication can be And so words hold truth Nothing more, nothing less But even truth Can be a lie