One little lie,
How small.
Each time,
You tell one
The tower of deceit
Grows a bit more tall,
“It wasn’t me”
You continue to fabricate
Each little secret.
You do not look back,
For fear of what you’d see.
You’ve tangled yourself
In a web of deceit,
That you don’t want to
Believe
Is there.
Too deep.
You are stuck
To its sticky filaments,
There is no
Untangling this.
But you try
Nonetheless.
Your fingers fumble,
Too knotted,
Too far gone.
The only escape
Is truth.
You must cut each string,
Each fraudulence,
With the scissors
Of honesty.
You must trace your steps backwards,
Sacrifice what you have,
For losing upon overdue truth
Is better
Than losing upon lies.
McNeil High School
9