Poetry, is anything the truth?
A lie isn't a lie and to die isn't to die.
A thing is another.
If someone stands for someone else
does the second someone sit?
When are the flowers flowers?
They can be happy little things.
Clouds in the sky, children, or spring.
Death, blood, and torture.
Crayons in a box, such simple fun.
Meanings so sweet.
Rainbows, fun, a country of racial equality.
The fake people of wax, slavery, containment.
Are birds ever birds?
Feathers and beaks.
Freedom, happiness, and peace.
Foreshadowing demise, fear, war.
So often things are what they're not
A wolf in disguise?
Are they ever true?