Ann Foster | + Follow Poet |
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The Truth

The Truth

I am here to make you...
uncomfortable. 
I am the truth, 
the whole truth, 
nothing less than, 
but there is more. 

The problem is you never look for it. 
You never step outside your zone, 
your place of origin, 
your home inside, 
where you hide. 

The world is not passing by, 
it is coming this way, 
like a freight train without tracks, 
able to misdirect and confuse 
the course of action 
that has already been taken, 
will be taken, 
and will be "took". 

Ask yourself, 
who or what do you believe? 
Ask yourself, 
critical questions, 
before you end up in 
the emergency room, 
fair game for experiments, 
that might go wrong, 
who knows? 

The streets are not safe anymore. 
The schools have been overtaken by unicorns. 
Homeless heroes are treated badly, 
less than the scum of the Earth. 
No homage to their personal sacrifice for all, 
at all. 

Rotten Politian's that suck the marrow,
from the citizen's bones, 
bask in the moment, 
but will pay a "measure" in the end, 
in full. 

Preachers, 
pastors, 
oath breakers, 
and simple plain takers, 
will be the makers of their own demise, 
the sin of which is blacker than 
darkness can be. 

This could go on, 
and it may never end. 
But it stops here, 
with a fear, 
for the ones that dwell on the lie, 
of the apple pie, 
and eat until they are truly content. 

The witch asked the children, 
what flavor candy they loved most? 
She did so to make a gravy, 
a sauce, 
for her dinner, 
that night.
It was the last question, 
she asked, 
and she wanted a
truthful answer.

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