Now, I know some of us love our lies,
We embrace it like a priced cloak,
That covers our filth.
We cherish it like a beautiful wrap cladding our nudity.
We would rather protect our lies; believe it, till we become it.
We live it and almost forget they are what they are "lies".
No matter how beautiful we make them look.
No matter how gorgeous we decorate this lies,
They can't erase our truth.
As you know, some of us live our truth,
We display it like clear water.
Streamed through rocks, gushed from pressure,
Watered from fresh dew, cooled at morn.
Though, our flaws may taint our beauty,
Refine our perfection. Yet, it's this un-smoothened patch,
That tells who we are.
No matter how hard it is to tell,
It’s the bravery we live that never would herald a lie.
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