For every truth, I've told a lie
This isn't something I admit easily
because the truth becomes a broken piece of me
that I hollow and hide
cocoon in a web of lies.
But for every lie I've told a truth
This is something I can say freely
As the lies are nice, but not entirely
The truth becomes a pillow
my mind becomes the bed.
And I guess this is what they call being honest
Being open with yourself
On open days the lies will sit
waiting on a shelf
waiting for me to change the bedsheets.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Puzzle Pieces
PoesiaThis book is made up of poetry that I have written and have been encouraged to share. Some pieces have been previously written and posted, others have been drafted only on Wattpad. Started in 2016, finished in early 2018. Enjoy, Leah x
