I lied to you, I lied to me. l lied without shame with nothing to gain. I lied to my friends, just to fit in. I lied to my work, saying I had been hurt. I lied to my family and held it all in.
I lied so much; I cannot believe it myself. Looking around, all that I see, all the time, and all I have deceived, are lies and secrets and shameless repeats. I just want it all to end and be set free no more pretend.
How it started or when it began, seems from the beginning until the end. If I knew the reasons why I lied, then I could stop and truly try.
The truth is hidden trapped in myself, locked in a prison, the key I cannot find. So, whatever conceived, whatever deceived, remember this one thing I have left till the end, it is sad a lie can replace the truth, and make the truth a lie.
Even this poem has been a lie from when it began. From this point on I truly confess, lies and secrets can rip and bash, even if it brings a good laugh.
This Ends here my Friend.
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BURNING FIRE
red embers still glowing, afar off crackle and snap, the sound of life dying from blackness and ash. Nothing left, not one tiny leaf, thousands of trees gone no trace left. Not just the trees, I'm sure of that. The wildlife in the forest didn’t have a chance, the spring chicks still unable to fly. The newborn Dow is not able to run in the sticker Bryers. mother bear inside her cave with newborn cubs nesting asleep. many life forms gone, without a trace. If it were nature, it wouldn't be hard to take. A strike of lightning would be why this place burnt. not this time " no" it's been proven this started by man. At the fire's starting line, where it was lit, a burnt red can in ashes sat. It's one of five down the fires line, spread one hundred miles from north to south. Then turned east looping back west. Why would anyone start fires to kill this God given place? over ten thousand acers of safety for God's creatures he made. I am so angry We've lost five good men because of the changing winds. What a hellish thing to do, some stupid insane person who has nothing better to do, that's who, I vow to catch them if it’s the last thing I do. While drive east on HWY 10 the smoke so heavy I could hardly breath in, I spotted a little green truck and it looked really stuck, I pull up beside it, inside was a young man, he must not be even 16, and in the bed of the truck I could see, where small red cans that where all lined up in threes. The boy lies inside this truck almost dead. Shocked and fear I called out" hey son is you alive or dead?" Then the young boy replied with his last breath, nobody else's Dad would be dead, I made sure, I made sure the killers who ran into this Forrest were burnt and gone to Hell.
By Theresa McQuillen4 years ago in Poets
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