Contorting the Truth

Truth is her name, though I contort her every time I speak
The visions in my mind tell me this is not the way
I will only end up hurting myself and those around me

The more I delay in revealing this immaturity within
The more pain shall be caused upon revelation
What seems so simple is all so complicated

“Where were you, my son?” The tearful eyes ask me
“Why were you not in bed where I last saw you lain?”
What can I say to those powerful eyes?
“Gone” is all I can manage to say as I turn my gaze away
Still feeling those knowing eyes upon myself
“You’ve done it again” They say, “The trust has been broken”

Once again I have pushed too hard and got slapped in the face
I slapped them all in the face

Oh, Truth, you maniacal witch
Do you feel splendid joy at my expense?
To what end?
I do the same damn thing, time after time

Those eyes are sure to kill me one of these days
“You can do better.  You’re above that.  You lazy fool.”

Truth or Lies – I don’t know anymore
The stories collide with brilliant effects
One image leaks into the masterpiece of another
Though they have already sunk into the grand scheme of life

Tune it out and go on with what is best
What I know I can do, what I’ve been told I can do

Though the truth will forever be distorted
By the instability of my mind and the lewdness of my lips
I must ask myself one final question –
Who am I to control the very life of an abstract concept such as this?