Liar. by Katie Fortune
Their tongue is a paint-brush,
Spattering sentences
in thick, greasy layers
with dripping lies.
Kaleidoscope of truths.
Each one morphing to their
benefit, handing them
the strings to peoples minds.
Like crumpled paper dolls
Played with and tossed away.
People are merely shreds,
To collect then discard.
Here we sit, gullible,
naïve, cannot feel false
from true. Blind to deceit,
a cloud in which we stumble.
They only laugh, then give
the wrong pieces to the
right puzzle, we fumble
with them, to their delight.
