I am a pathological liar.

I tell you I hate the winter time, yet I spend hours sledding down icy hills.

I swear I crave attention, but I’m always the one avoiding group dinners.

I profess my disdain for chaos, yet my desk is cluttered with half-finished plans.

I say I’m done with the past, yet I reread old messages like a ritual.

I call myself steady, but I change my mind every time the wind shifts.

I claim I’m tired of this city, though I’ve memorized the names of every street.

I promise I’ll let go, yet I still save receipts from years ago.

I contradict myself with a precision I can’t help but admire,
And maybe the paradox is the most honest thing about me.

She painted me in violent red
Dripping oil and
Strokes of toxic lead
Painted bloodied battle scenes
Of her, martyred
Me, dead
Vast imagery to tell her story,
Duplicitously
She painted her face
On every soldier, replaced,
And sold it museum to museum,
Showcased
I am the pawn,
Exhausted
A lifetime of submission
Of holding up hers,
Supported
I jumped ship, swam to shore
Faced my pain,
Drew lines in the sand,
Ended my war
She sings to the world her lies
Still, now
And paints me in violent red
From the cut she made,
From the wounds she bled.

I keep living
As though love
Comes with strings attatched
And try as I might
I cannot cut through
That lie.

The greatest lie you ever told to me
Was sealed with a kiss
That passion, desperation, clinging to mine 
You lied fiercely to me 
You pressed it to my lips as I believed it all
Lying to me repeatedly 
But my heart begged for more of your love 
Lie to me more, please
Because every time we do, I gain some hope
That this wasn't the last
That we had so much more in store for each other
We held on for so long
Both wanting to make this our permanent truth
Once again
I fell for the lie, the promise, that you will always
Come back to me

Amidst the crowd she’s alone,
Amidst all hundreds of friends and others.
She’s alone. She sits by herself.
Amidst empty and worthless dialogues.

It’s as if she’s being overlooked.
It’s like as if she’s in silence cloud.
Her thoughts are quiet for all them.
She’s far away. She’s lost in the crowd.

She lives in her own world of dreams,
Without fictions, lies and falsehood.
Her footsteps are quiet for others as streams.
Nobody knows what'll be her remote.

And she lives in her tiny world.
Worries and fears are endless there.
It seems as if she’s attached in whole
To all her pain, which bites and bares.

I hear them sometimes
Whispering their lies

Do you hear them?
Behind those eyes
Whispering those lies

I surrender most times
To their lies behind my eyes
Surrender to their whispering lies