Only in hindsight,

Can we see things clearly.

Only in this clarity,

Can we find truth.

In this re-collection though,

What is seen in objectivity,

Now becomes subjective,

Because we hardly can handle truth as it stands.

It can be a bitter pill to swallow,

Because we are always wondering who's judging us.

Or it can hit us like a ton of bricks,

Showing us the holes we keep falling into.

Yet, it can be a subtle fact...that we are loved,

In all our frailty.

When we can love the part of us that fails,

The part that wants to cover our faults,

To never be vulnerable and exposed to others,

When we can find confidence and strength in who we are,

In spite of feeling weak,

Then truth cannot scare us.

Maybe then,

Truth will not be such a bold thing to force us to wear


Maybe then,

Truth will not be such an overlooked thing,

That we fall once again into the same hole,


Truth is more than middle ground on the pendulum,

And it is far more brutal than justice and fairplay.

It cares not about honor and dignaty,

Where you are from,

Or what family you belong to or how much money you have.

Truth IS.

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