It just so happens, truth
can make a heart clearly see~
it's not the sun's fault,
light has this way of revealing
what darkness tends to blot
I'm sorry is a natural thing to say,
but a line was crossed
that scribes nothing
of our poetry;
so hush up, dear
your actions were perfectly said,
they tell me, believe in no one
Your word is smut;
a pencil
you can erase with,
and has not enough substance
to be read
by anyone
