This Lie - Poem by David Zvekic
This lie - in honesty I must profess,
But scarcely raise the truth, much less atone
For years we spent such moments of duress
So longer love could leave this farce alone.
All days and nights as hopes fade fast to dust,
This lie paints thick its portrait as it deems,
And though a dream bore power over fate:
A nightmare brought lies power over dreams.
This life I live - wrought free from my poor grasp;
This air I breathe - this breath - not quite my own;
These hands - these fingers borne, no longer clasp;
My bed laid out in house but not in home.
This love - this life - this one who loves no life:
This lie we lead should make no man and wife.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
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