I can't lie to you, the truth spills out,
A fumbling confession, whispered doubt.
I'm just trying to trace the winding way,
To find some solid ground beneath my sway.
I could boast, brag, and shout with hollow sound,
Claim mastery where no firm truth is found.
Paint vibrant lies, a captivating scene,
But emptiness would fester in between.
Opinions bloom like weeds in every yard,
A tangled growth, both cherished and abhorred.
Each bursting forth, a vibrant hue and claim,
Yet rooted loosely, whispered in a game.
Everyone possesses, holds them dear,
A precious lens, dispelling doubt and fear.
A shield, a weapon, comfort in the fray,
But often blinders, leading us astray.
All the answers, shimmering and bright,
Dance just beyond the edges of our sight.
We reach and grasp, but find our fingers bare,
A fragile hope suspended in the air.
We stand together, gazing at the same,
A single object, etched in sun and flame.
Yet different visions flicker in our eyes,
And separate realities arise.
So, I confess, I'm lost within the maze,
Seeking understanding in a hazy daze.
I offer honesty, a flawed and fragile plea,
Just trying, like you, to truly see.
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