No truth in you,
From the day of your birth.
You’re an awkward view,
Covered in mirth.
Terrible and instinctive,
Truth cuts your soul,
As your fear becomes reactive.
Crouching low, out of control.
We both know it well.
There’s a name for it,
Anyone can spell.
But you won’t admit.
This is the evil you transmit
The cold stone silence of hell!
Like the mushrooms in the darkened night,
Where the liars swing with shear delight,
And the worms of distrust build their home
On the liberal words of shining chrome.
Thus the truth abides not with you
Nor with those who share your view.
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