Yesterday, all yesterdays,
The words flowed easy.
The lies, falsehoods, fabrications, stories,
They all wove together in a tapestry, magnificent, horrible.
One big wool, pulled over the collective world's eyes.
And life was simple.
Today, all day,
I bit my lip.
I did not let the words spring forth like usual.
I did not say anything, but I did not lie.
You would call this progress. I call it torture.
I smile softly when no one is looking, I could yet get used to this.
And life is satisfying.
Tomorrow, when it comes, if it comes,
I might tell a truth.
Not a big truth, nor a profound one, but a truth nonetheless.
I might say something and mean it.
This is something I fear, this is something I want.
And life would be good.