And so it began
the puzzle of lies,
slowly falling
into many broken pieces.
He was the hero,
as people claimed him.
Though he denied it,
his voice fell faint
against the loud cheering
of the crowd.
The shower of glory
should have meant comfort
for anyone basked in it.
Yet his conscience
gradually lost existence
when certain moments went astray.
But the hero was a good liar—
one who never believed
his own lies.
And so the gleam of his eyes
grew ever darker,
and the world he lived in
ever smaller.
No comments:
Post a Comment