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He was a good liar,
Since he was very young.
He said his father taught him so,
As he grew up prideful and strong.
He was a good liar,
As he stared directly into one's eyes.
He never hesitated; neither did he stutter,
Lying and lying till everyone reconciled.
He was a good liar,
And his every smile was a beautiful shield.
He lied and lied to hide his skin,
As his wounds bled beneath.
He was a good liar,
Trying his best to make-believe.
He was terrified of his father's wrath,
As he tried to explain his injuries.
He was a good liar,
And the best one I ever knew.
How I wish he could tell me the truth,
So I could never have to go to his funeral alone.
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YOU ARE READING
Pressed between the Pages
Poesía》Poem Compilation《 Words can never justify our feelings and yet we still try to write them down. We use words every day, try to express what we feel and why we do so, and yet, somehow, we always fall short. Try looking through the lines and maybe, y...
