Now, Spit!

I'm having a truth pulled out.
It's been causing me discomfort,
and they say it has to go.

I protest,
saying I don't mind,
and it doesn't hurt that much.
(In truth, I quite like the pain.
It let's me know I'm still feeling.)

Yet, they insist,
and though I am numbed
I still feel it all.
Twist,
Yank,
a little blood,
and it's all over.

Yet, I am still bothered
by the loss,
so it is replaced
by a false truth.
It doesn't sit right,
and I will not trust it.

It looks like the truth,
and feels like the truth,
but I doubt it will stand up to the
pressure,
I put on my old truth.
I miss my old truth,
but they cannot put it back.

So I move on,
not wanting to cause a fuss,
with my plastic truth.