Truth
Whispers.
Soft, raspy, whispers.
Draw nearer, the softer they become.
Quiet.
Words spoken to the wrong person.
Twisted by the tongue,
Strewn across time and space.
Truth?
Within the distortion- does it still exist?
Without the truth, we are nothing.
We have nothing.
We can be nothing.
The truth is no longer discernible.
What have we become?
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