The Secret World

I don’t have to live like this

I could give up the bug juice

I could get creative

Tear up my notebook

And start again

I could pluck out my eyes

Block up my ears

Tear out my tongue

And write in the air

There is no truth

And that being true

There are only lies

Stories that you tell

To make it seem alright

The object of thought

The indelible link

To predictable reason

The assassin of truth

Obscures the way

To self expression

There are no words

With which to write

The secret world

The inner life

For lies abound

Where silence prevails

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