true lies

True Lies

 

What if I should believe every lie I am told
because the liar thinks it is the truth.
What if it becomes the truth to him or her,
and they continue to swear, until they believe it,
and believe I, am only being difficult,
and that the facts lay, in what they had to say,
not in the details, that can go wrong,
for any woman or man.
What if the lie is so much their truth
that it consumes them, and each time I come close,
they say, Do you believe me? and they brood,
and I finally choose, to believe the lie.
Can it really make a difference? We all die.

Reviews

[W.k.kortas]

This reminds me of "Paper Pills" in Anderson's Winesburg, Ohio...which, curiously enough, is about the only thing in that collection which hasn't withered up and died itself.

[Charles]

How insightful the last couple of poems have been. When I was working as an attendant on a mental ward in a county hospital, I believed the 'lies' one of the residents told me (I think he believed them, too). I persisted in my belief until I switched shifts one day and found him telling the same 'truths' to a door knob. I still don't know whether his 'truth' was fact or fancy. Your poem, like all good poetry, brings back memories and makes the reader stop... and think. :-)

[Ed Hart]

that pretty much describes it

[miSS LEaf]

no matter how confusing the blurry edges of truth and lies, i think every soul with a conscience knows what is and isn't.......
quoting Conan (the manga detective) : "there can only be one truth..."
the ending is very sharp; enjoyed reading this poem :) ~L