Tattered Truth

Tattered Truth

You seem to drag it out each time–
it’s ragged, worn, and frayed,
the Truth you tell
to weave your spell
and all the games you played.

At first, it worked its magic–
I was the chosen one,
the weave was tight
and all was right
threads yet to be undone.

The next time it was thinner–
yet still could warm the soul
but comfort faded
my heart jaded
began to feel the cold.

Your hands are full of threads now–
your Truth I barely see
behind the lies
and broken ties
my truth now comes from me.

~C-Lea
12/19/98