Fault is never certain till it's too late.
A hindsight stuck in probate.
'Come on now there has to be a history that lead you to believe...'
Yeah it's called intuition, for the evidence has already been destroyed.
'But destroyed by whom? '
Well 'them' I presume.
'Give me one reason not to write you off as a mad man conspiracy theorist.'
What are you trying say?
I made the entire thing up in my head?
Impossible I don't have creative bone in my body.
They are definitely too set in there ways, or just maybe I just broke them one too many times that now all they want to do is stay in the same damn place.
Snap, crackle, pop, I do think I'd remember such a painful and traumatic event.
I'm certainly not that far gone.
'Of your not course not. I was just saying...
Well spit it out already before you and I both choke on it.
'With out proof it is still but a illusive illusion of possible truths.'
'Rumors will continually whisper in wind in a attempt to become the one and only true story no matter how far fetched they might seem.'
There is a price to pay for the lies we spread around like demons neck ties.
It is that eventually no one will believe you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem