Lies

Lies

The real truth

it is only what we perceave

the correctness of something ot be

suposedly

it is black or white

yet

it can be twisted and turned

at will

like branches of the oldest oak

It's as shady as a forest

on a bright summers day

there is but one truth

no one sees

People have thier own sides

THey are all against the middle

where the truth doth lay

unreachable umwanted

but only as long as it satisfied the

selfish