Truth

A ball of furry feathers,

Stuffed down your throat,

Choking you,

Begging you,

To be swallowed whole,

But you cough it out,

All of it,

Till there are no feathers left;

Released from your pain,

You watch the feathers scratch the listener’s face.

But eventually,

The feathers float,

Light up in the air,

Spiral above,

While the dark elixir of lies,

The poisonous aid,

Evaporates.

 

Published on: May 11, 2011