the truth is quiet, it never screams
or makes itself known
it hides in the way you adjust your clothing
or how you like to arrange your pencils
whispering in plain sight
sometimes hidden obviously
but if you're blind you'll never see it
not even your own
sorry
truth
YOU ARE READING
dark poems
Poetrythis seems like poetry and prose sometimes it's more than you'd suppose see, what my mind creates, goes but what that is, nobody knows
