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16 Jun 2008, 11:13 pm / Stressed
The truth is what we vainly seek - We know it to be goodSo how can such a simple fact Be so misunderstood?Although we praise the worth of truth - Its purity adoredDespite our pitiful attempts To capture its rewardIts nature is a mystery, And nothing is revealedIronic that the truth we know Has untruth as its shieldImpure and harsh is what truth is - A skeleton of life.A shadow that, when given form Produces thus our strifeYet fatal misconceptions lie Inside the heart of truthWhich has within its dying throes Sweet innocence of youthIts mask disintegrates with death Revealing its true faceA barren plain, an empty room, A meaningless embrace
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