True Lie Poem by Mahathi Mydavolu

She searched for home; a rather grey abode...
not big, but one with wide windows and doors
to ventilate her heart, beside a road
to stroll along showing her face of lores.

No humble host she found, no owner nice.
Some asked credentials, some pried to steal
a glimpse of her colour, some scanned her eyes
...alas she gained no faith and won no deal.

'What's wong with me? ', she thought, 'I'm beautiful
with grace in face and cogent countenance.
My walk is straight and bearing meaninful.
My talk sometimes pungent but makes right sense.'

Poor Truth eavesdropped a turgid spiel with moans
from homes... she peeped...there well-dressed Lie on throne.