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| Courtesy: Sunshinecity (Licensed under Creative Commons) |
Because those twinges of guilt
Will poke you in places
You didn't know existed
And then colour your dreams
In shades you'd have never chosen
They will invade sentences
Pushed back from the tip of your tongue
At the very last moment
Panic
Will come too close for comfort
Caress you with icy finger-tips
While you plaster on a fake, brave smile
Regret
Will come chasing
Even as you try to outrun it
On legs already tired
By countless deceptions
Come clean,
Because the mirror will tell you stories
You don't want to see
Random words will show you insights
You don't want to hear
Your heart will sear
Doubts will knock on your door
The sound echoing
In the corridors of your wrinkly sleep
Jumpy
Edgy
Confused
You will be a ghost
Of the self you used to be
Come clean,
Or you may wait
Until the fruits of all those lies
Are too sour to eat.
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