Beautiful Lies

Gazing outward upon times when others could not utter words of reprise that depicted beautiful lies.

These treasures composed of thought, blood, and tears only hoping to appear as false perfections.

When observing times of reprise I often ponder on the dishonor these lies comprise.

Dissecting the many layers constructed from the bloody tears of thought.

Misdirection from every perspective bedim the purity that once dwelled within.

Spoken from compassionate lips.

 Flying through the minds of every person throughout time.

Beautiful lies hide torments that lie within facts.

So we cry when certainties can’t be made.

Fearful of gashing the listener’s ear.

Blood, trickling downward like warm drops of reality that begin to pool on the floor.

Peering into the pools of blood asking your reflection why.

As it starts to coagulate, and the image disappears, you begin to hear.

Beautiful lies.