I want to breathe in the truth,
Instead of suffocate in the lies.
But the truth is a fire,
And it’s only nature is to incinerate.
And if I seek too much of it I find myself burned.
The truth isn’t always good.
It sometimes is very bitter.
Like petals on a flower,
Dried up and withered.
It seems the truth is so hard to find,
Even though it’s deep down in out conscious mind.
So I will breathe in the sweet smell from the fire,
As I sit and it melts my flesh.
I’d rather be here then have a suffocating death.