Lies Make A Poor Lamp

Lies make a poor lamp with which to light the way,
Lies will snap the strings that bind each and every day,
A liar grows more grotesque as time goes slowly by,
A tortured fate awaits the willful soul of those who lie.

Like a siren's song that seduce the strongest men,
Or a shipwrecked on the shoals by an ill-fated wind,
Liars do beguile to breach one's protective shell,
Like cobblestone, lies lace the hottest road to hell.

What of occasionally casting a trite white lie?
Surely such a common thing won't damn a soul to die,
To practice such an unholy thing is a baited booby trap,
A liar is like an artisan whose sculpture is made of crap.

So, stay alert and open to the intrinsic things in life,
Save yourself the terrible pain of a liar's years of strife
Watch yourselves, my fellow hearts, so easily gone astray,
"The truth shall set you free," is more than just an old cliche.

FOLDER

My Poetry  (E) Come as you are. #2034965 by Vanishing Vapor