Nature of Truth

A shell,

Haunted.

I pull gears, yank levers,

A smile, a laugh.

I turn knobs, push buttons,

A step, a jump.

 

My day, spread thin.

Preparing, maintaining the shell.

Presenting.

Confidence, control, poise.

 

Beneath,

Wandering within myself,

Looking to find that piece.

A minute particle,

A sliver of a sliver of a sliver,

My soul.

 

And I wrap it,

Hold it tightly

Within the deep folds of myself.

Constantly protecting my soul with my Truth,

Sheltering it from the outside,

A world beautiful, yet cruel.

 

And my Truth

Riddled in fear and worry,

Guarded and reserved,

Is on show for the world.

 

My Truth:

I am human.

Keeping my Nature at bay

And away from my soul.

 

My Nature:

I am an animal.

Within the depths of my Truth it stirs,

Crushed by the necessities of the world,

The need for civility,

Ready to break its cage.

 

I hide within my shell,

Wrestling to keep the balance.

Ugliness.

Beauty.

My Nature.

My Truth.

Keeping me alive.

 

But I ask:

Which is beauty?

Which is ugly?

 

And I hide this struggle from the world.

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