Pits Left In The Cherries Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

The proof of truth is in the facts.
And a nibble to taste just a little of it,
Has sickened the minds.
Wishing to have no more of that.
To claim the facts had been overcooked.
Served up by the ones,
Using a recipe directly from...
Crooks who provided their books to take a look.
Then tried to deny,
Their obvious lies.

Yet the main chef in the kitchen,
With facts intact.
Had known all the time,
A presentation of truth...
Will sicken the minds,
Of those who would not find...
Sweetened deceptions glazed with marmalade.
Tasteful and lip licking.
Reminiscent of what grandma made.
And without pits in the cherries.

Folks...
There are pits left in the cherries.
Real and not from them picked.
And the fruits used for the glaze,
Have soured to become forgotten.
Buried at the bottom of a barrel by crooks.
Hoping kept pretensions,
Would be defended by those deluded...
By their version of innocence.

And here we are all debating what is true.
As if truth is the threat.
To leave arguments left,
Whether it is the thieves to believe.
With a history of their deception produced.
Or...
Will it be the truth revealed not to delude,
Be the choice to choose.
Although sweet it is not.
For those who have become accustomed,
To a reality served...
Addicting to the taste although is rotten.

Which future will it be to pick?
With it preferred to live as hypocrites?
Regretting every moment of it.
If the choice to choose,
Is to continue to stay...
Comfortably hoodwinked, duped and deceived.