R
Rupesh Jhabak
Guest
Culpable Truth
I've been burning like a bonfire in the dark,
And every spark a drifting ember of desire.
Lifting the covers from this world, I observe;
Truth leaves a guilty trail and noble is a liar.
And in the early morning half-light, where
Sun is still a rumor and night still a threat.
I sense the weight of the world has gone wrong,
Because truth now is a liar's masquerade.
What should have been my armor,
Has become sharp and angry swords.
In the whirlwind life of faith and betrayal;
Scars are smiles and smiles open wounds.
Through a darkened mirror of my conscience;
Deep reflections float in muted disguise.
Forgive me my cynical thoughts, which
Walk a thin line across the truth's precipice.
I put myself on trial for things I hadn't done.
Men are staring, looking at what I've become.
I burn all the candles out and make a wish;
Disregarding I've created monsters, I reckon.
I look around for the closest to blame, but
Can't look further than the hands beneath my arms.
The echoes and the shadows scream my crime.
It's hard to fight a fire while feeding the flames.
Failure is a disease; the only option is to forget.
I revolve around myself; a traveler on a quest;
To discover the lie that truth has become,
Besides the conclusion to a treacherous deceit.
I've been burning like a bonfire in the dark,
And every spark a drifting ember of desire.
Lifting the covers from this world, I observe;
Truth leaves a guilty trail and noble is a liar.
And in the early morning half-light, where
Sun is still a rumor and night still a threat.
I sense the weight of the world has gone wrong,
Because truth now is a liar's masquerade.
What should have been my armor,
Has become sharp and angry swords.
In the whirlwind life of faith and betrayal;
Scars are smiles and smiles open wounds.
Through a darkened mirror of my conscience;
Deep reflections float in muted disguise.
Forgive me my cynical thoughts, which
Walk a thin line across the truth's precipice.
I put myself on trial for things I hadn't done.
Men are staring, looking at what I've become.
I burn all the candles out and make a wish;
Disregarding I've created monsters, I reckon.
I look around for the closest to blame, but
Can't look further than the hands beneath my arms.
The echoes and the shadows scream my crime.
It's hard to fight a fire while feeding the flames.
Failure is a disease; the only option is to forget.
I revolve around myself; a traveler on a quest;
To discover the lie that truth has become,
Besides the conclusion to a treacherous deceit.
