Crumbling Trust

What do you want me to say,
when your own world is based on a lie?
A thin line strung across
two falling mountains,
though of steel or iron made,
will not a single being save.
Is there hope if either path
to horrible fate does lead?

To what purpose do we strive?
Words are quick to strike on paper,
a flimsy thing of the past,
and on its pages...
All the lies.

Trust: there is no trust,
cannot be; can it?