To Die In Lies


Twenty times he told the truth.
Half that though,
Were only lies.
Every time it was to sooth,
The weakened boughs,
Of his tree of life.
After twenty he believed,
One and twenty
Was too much.
At that moment it conceived,
His mind, of plenty,
Lies not good enough.
No longer could he convince,
His soul receive,
The unreal.
The darkness and its prince,
Now deceived
What he used to feel.
What is goodness? What is wrong?
Questions invalid,
Asked of a fool.
The answer lies; in morality belongs
Of a man intrepid,
Knows the rules.
But too late, two and twenty past.
A chance missed,
The fool remains.
Six and twenty makes thirteen times,
Each lie kissed,
A fools remains.

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