The mistaken truth

Facts become nothing more than wavering intentions
A seize of emotion transformed into a justified afterthought
Making it hard to show face - to walk with dignity into the bronzed, sunlit-crowd
Springing excuses from the ground like fruitless flowers, calming the nerves with unanswered apologies

Seeking the truth but losing it somewhere along the way
Fighting defiant anger that is slowly seeped into the water supply Tainting even the most good-hearted, the most well-intentioned
Turning to exasperation on the left and fiery criticism on the right
Wanting to only hide in the unread newspaper pages, the blur of raised ink leaping out to confront ignorance

The undeniable convulsion of shakes, making it hard to even stand
Giving meaning to the disheveled appearance and to the loss of appetite
Being deadened by a limping numbness taking hold of the body
Not being able to conjure feelings of forgiveness, only regret surfaces

Tangled knots clench the stomach into a paralyzing queasiness
The broad generalizations is paraphrased into the creases of what no one will read
It becomes unavoidable, a constant enemy lurking in the dusty keyboard
Wishing it was forgotten, tucked away into the corners of history never to appear again

It becomes a burden, an imprisonment of sorts
Not knowing when it will all end - when the sentence will let up - or when the judge will dole out the "not guilty" verdict
Haunting the unknowing perpetrator, the criminal in invisible chains
Seeing imaginary prison bars around every corner, unable to even seek the breath of freedom