Gallery

My Truth


Verbiage rises to the surface

muddled and disheveled

a shovel is needed to weed

through the irregular levels

of nonsensical syllabic mess

and yes, in the end, all that’s left

bereft of any true meaning

is a less than tangible

tangential rant which can’t

be deciphered without

a decoder ring and the one thing

required to obtain this

besides too many box tops is

a desire beyond measurable reason

to trudge through the mire

and lumber through the fire

for the insignificant potential

of the possibly unpleasurable treasure

that is my psyche exposed

the rose accompanying the thorns

the halo encompassing the horns

the sights you thought you heard

and the soul behind the words

it may just be, my truth.

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