Truth has always been the uglier sister.
She’s always been a shadow of her sister, Lie.
Truth is the harsher one.
The older, the mature,
the one with fading youth and beauty.
Lie is the youthful, the younger, the more playful one.
The one who everyone adores, wants,
loves.
Truth opens herself to the world,
they shut her back up,
telling her to let Lie shine.
She’s always been the wiser,
no one likes her knowledge.
She knows what people hide,
the bitter secrets that lay within a person’s mind.
She wishes she was loved,
just like her sister.
But how could she ever be?
She was the face of sincerity,
And we only looked at the harsher,
While we point at pretty
Lie is poison,
killing everyone slowly,
words so gentle,
what we want to hear.
A whisper,
she’ll disappear in thin air.
The hideous rot was stuffed inside.
Truth tries to stop her,
people still hate,
still throw her back down.
So, what was the point?
Lie has always been the prettier sister.
And Truth waits for the day someone will find her beautiful.
Anonymous
