I'm lying when I say I like my life
And I'm lying when I say I don't
I'm lying when I say it will suffice
And I'm lying when I say it won't
I'm lying when I say I'm quite alright
And I'm lying that my health is poor
I'm lying that I lie awake at night
and that I'm dead asleep for sure
I'm lying that my days are filled with work
And that I have no time to spare
I'm lying, when I nearly go berserk
That I'd have a brief moment to share
I'm lying about me being straight
And I'm lying about being queer either
I'm lying about ever having found my fate
So it might be truly I'm neither
But I never lie about the only trait
That is not as bad as it seems
And I'm definitely sure at any rate
I'm proud about my dreams
© 2015
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You see, here you'll find poems and prose of opportunity and seasons. They're ours, though, so we have to protect them. Respect! Thank you!
Readers are welcome! If you are willing to follow the iconian path, you should know that it is always you we are talking to, even if it is not. And that everything is true, even if it is not. We all are eternally united in the last space possible where even the impossible is real. We ought to believe the foretold: If we'll meet tomorrow, next year, or never, it doesn't matter, it's only time! And everything, even time is fiction.
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