Truth is a blue sky,
In a hot summer's day.
So clear, you can't deny,
But hot flashes in you play.
Truth is a sharp blade,
Pressed against your throat.
Causing short breaths with aid,
Yet serene release, it promotes.
Truth is a great war,
With no winning side.
The right thing you implore,
Yet pain is what it provides.
Truth is a tender bedsore,
After a long peaceful sleep.
All you want is to be given more,
But the hurt hits you deep.
Truth is all we wish for.
We become thirsty and ask for more.
But it's broken glass, we can't ignore.
It's crystal shards will pierce your core.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem