Truth….
Truth has many colors…
The color of white, so bright and so pure
Clean as fresh fallen snow, on a cold winters day…
Spotless and unfaltering, blind and obscure
This shadow of truth, contains no shades of gray…
Truth can be red, like the blade of a knife
Whether dull or sharp, It can cut you so deep
Creates gaping wounds, left to fester and rot…
In anguish, lie wounded, to mourn and to weep
In anger, lie broken, in utter distraught…
Truth can be dark, and as black as the night
Absent of moon, with no stars in the sky…
Used to poison and maim everything in it's sight,
To condemn and defile, and to crucify…
All left hopelessly feeble, to suffer it's spite
But what is this truth…
Does it even exist?
It's a seed that was planted
a long time ago…
Beguiling, seductive
For those who believe
But perhaps, just a lie
in disguise, to deceive...
And this truth, we can never know…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The truth is spotless! Nice work.
Thank you for reading my poem and for your comment. I am grateful...