Blunt truths

A knife recoiled from the blunt truth.

It could not cut at its sharp edges,

That poked fun at all the grudges,

That I could ever hold.

 

Poked fun and reminded me,

Of all that I could never be,

And all that I had yet to escape,

And everything beneath the draped.

 

Lift it I must, yet never show,

To anyone else, lest it glow,

In a different light than the one I knew,

Or any different hue.

 

My lips were sewn together by the spell,

Of that blunt truth that fell,

With hard blows upon my heart.

Scars those have left –that still smart.

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