When your lies pretend to be truths,
Your house becomes full of cadavers.
The reticent progeny, you abandoned at birth, strikes.
My hands bleed, lifting the bones.
Actuality overwhelms the landscape like molten lava.
Shadows in the sun, grow larger when we are dissecting the truth.
A daunting work to dig out the relics.
We have not modified our speech.
Ill-tempered time makes me insane.
I was not prepared for this calamity, losing my way in a jungle of untruths.
Mighty darkness pierces the perennial thoughts in the brain edifice,
Knives were out all evening, emptiness was screaming.
