Liar

The truth is always a lie In the face of reality It is a fragile matter of futility In a word Both grow side by side like mushrooms Sound the same if given the right name Heard only by one person soon to be announced Soon enough Her name is Mary Known only to herself and others The truth stands solid against illusionist Conjured up in prestidigitation’s magic Other stuff too, too difficult to allude to Insinuate or mention in this passage But lets get back to Mary She has the answers…really…. with perfect clarity Certainty is a certain part of truth But a fraction of that, which is a lie, resides The lie is a factual tale saved in its place Kept in a lock box out of harms way Along side the lie lays truth They make a perfect couple An unholy alliance of each other Guess who has the key in case it matters Mary started the first fire Invented it along with all other things (Except the internet...that was Al Gore....He thinks...) She created the fire of enlightenment Sticks her hand in it as proof It does not burn according to her matches They stand witness to her youth and beauty And never strike before the covers closed Friends confront her with the truth Fire hurts She laughs at their insanity Calls them liars, immature Sanity is on her side with truth and lies Locked up in that compact box Fermenting like mushrooms together She brings them out for drinking exercises late Exchanging telephone numbers, identities Intellectual ideas are then debated Interchangeable in their nature and meaning They get drunk and stay together Determined to win they fall asleep Mary Wakes up with truth and lies in bed Hung over, they both look the same to her She questions, “Do I know your names?” “Have you heard a word I've said?”