A thought weighs heavy still

in poem •  7 years ago 

Saving Lie

A tear of absolution drips down the face of equivocation.
The smell of bewail stains the air around me.
I did it for me; I do it for you.

Can one truly be free from melancholy?

Yes!

I am!

Perhaps a thought as such distracts the mind of veracity.
Perhaps... but such a lovely lie it is!

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