Twisting the truth to suit
Till you believe your own stories
A faery tale where you are the central character
The star, figure of pity, victim
Which one is it to be today?
Or is your script becoming confused
So you don’t understand your own part any more?
Do you know the truth behind the fallacy
Or have you pedalled such a filthy stream
That only now exists
Any reality lost in the curtains
You have drawn over the parts you don’t like
Decided they didn’t fit the pictures of perfection
You try to pass off as truth
Look closely at your new painting
It may look clean and bright
From a distance
Step in and observe properly
There are dirty smears and the paint
Has cracked.
Ailsa
ailsacawley 