Always.
There will be untold stories.
Created down to unbelievable details.
To have believed events.
Or experiences one to claim.
That never happened.
On this Earth to have occurred.
Always.
There will be someone that relishes,
In captivating embellishment.
With it told to tell.
From a selective memory.
Who did what when and where.
With no one else to validate.
But sold to sell and goes over well.
Hypnotizing those who know,
Lies unverified...
Survive to have a life of their own.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem