Staring at the image of a reflection,
The glass shrouded in its entirety,
A personification of what must be.
Close to perfection as though wrapped in a white bundle,
A caregiver awaits the call from sincerity,
The trickling of deception at a wake,
Perpetual dishonesty is the demise of many.
As I held that golden flower of truth,
I still kept myself from opening the black box,
A box full of what I have become,
I am not a liar.
Not a deciever to those with a watchful eye,
My integrity is a grove where the air rushes free.
I am not locked away in a package,
Giving away mountains of largesse.
Overtly profounded to those who are hidden,
Overcome the odds,
Triumph through the ocean of perils.
Be who you want to be,
Honesty is the answer,
Pave that stone path to the person you already are.