The only thing lies to tell,
Have proven once told...
Can not reverse to do.
That will convince those told,
And sold on lies to believe...
Truth sought to seek,
Would be an unending search...
For the beginnings of reality.
When a truth to them then heard,
Has less credibility.
Than those lies told they uphold,
As proof and evidence...
A discovery of truth told,
Is on a mission to deceive.
And this twisting of events,
Leaves no one believing...
Truth is produced.
With clarity observed.
To inspect and dissect.
Close up and within reach.
"And you now say,
Why to you anyone would lie...
When the truth had been available?
That makes no sense at all."
-We know that.
That's why we prefer to be lied to.
Who can trust the truth anymore,
Expecting it to be completely honest?
Even under microscope,
There is something about its purity.
That invites suspicion.
Nothing can exist,
Without blemishes or flaws to expose.-
"Good point.
Especially these days,
When many find truth offensive.
It is impossible that truth,
Can survive immune from lies."
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem