Truth

Truth is a shape-shifter, a transient possessor

She overtakes and overwhelms a guilty mind,

turning it, unwittingly, into a helpless confessor.

She is a sharpshooter. She always hits her mark.

The target set on fire and rendered insane.

The fire is unquenchable and illuminates the dark.

She won't abide in a fact for long. Facts tend to be cold.

She's drawn to her opposite, attracted you might say.

Playing house, she co-habitates with every lie ever told.

Not arriving at the party with your closest friend

to shine brightly on a gracious host.

On the arm of your enemy, Truth finds a way to attend.

She's powerful, she's strange, and she's sad.

A superior man seeks her, a free man finds her,

but once he knows her, she makes him mad.

Truth is a plague and a demon to the devout.

An assassin of faith.

With a stake and a crucifix they chase her about.

Beautiful illusions we wear just like clothes.

She strips and destroys them

The stranger inside us, so very well she knows.

Truth has an agenda, a purpose to fulfill.

Her methods often cruel, then turn friendly and kind.

Some she intends to liberate. Others she means to kill.