You may not know this now, but I'm very aware of the white lies and half-truths you feed to me.
It hurts, you know?
You're one of the closest people to me. I look up to you, literally and figuratively. You're essential to my very existence, having been part of what has created me and made me myself.
I know you fear telling me the truth, because of who I am to you, who I always will be from your perspective.
And I know that it can be hard for you.
But you lacked on one crucial detail when deciding that you wanted to pretend half of the truth was nonexistent—
The truth, by one way or another, will always be revealed eventually. It will always show itself at some point.
For years, you lied to me. You hid half the story, you lied to me. And knowing that you did that hurts more than the actual thing that you did.
You always say, "Honesty is the best policy."
But how can you say that to me when you've lied to me for so long already?
YOU ARE READING
Unprofessional Poems
PoetryJust poems that were written by a teenager who does really know what she's doing. Please read. I promise they're not terrible- just unprofessional, and sometimes kind of angsty.
