Three Little Birds

WHY I LIE

I lie a lot.
I lie and lie a lot
I tell fibs so often
That most cannot discern
When I am lying
And when I am not.

People sometimes ask me why
Is it because I'm mad or shy?
To that I just laugh and wink
And provide more riddles to think
But deep deep down, the awful truth
Is that I have zero clue.

I started lying very young
Learned it before my mother tongue
Now I can fake telling truths
When in fact I have no proof
Told myself it was for practice
Now I find I am too skilled at it.

Lying became my instinct
My barrier
Just stories woven tight
The more the merrier
My mind spins and wheels
Tales kinder than truths that kill.

The lies flow so naturally
That everything else is fake
I can never tell a truth
Some is real, some I make
I tell myself to keep going
To keep the web spinning.

I do not lie to harm
I always say it is for fun
I simply voice out with false alarm
And everyone jumps up to run
I laugh at them, I laugh out loud
The real feels inside I disallow.

I fib to my friends
And brush it off as a prank
That way, nobody can tell
Who I like best
And who I detest
It is safer that way.

I fib to my family
Sprinkle a lie here
Mash up an untruth there
Nobody is wiser
Prevents disaster
It is safer that way.

I shrug and nod
And converse one-on-one
People tell me their secrets
Sometimes I trade mine
To look as if I'm on the line
My face of stone lies.

I lie to myself as well
You don't like Math at all, I tell
You like this food and that
Even if its taste you forget
I lie in this poem half the time
Convincing myself it must rhyme.

The best about fibbing is the façade
I can pretend to be who I want
Except that after a while
The mask turns worthwhile
The plastic cover blends into steel
The faked trait becomes real.

Whenever I actually tell a truth
Chaos ensues
Knitted eyebrows, dropped jaws
The tape of discord reels
The backs of people turn
My insides begin to slowly burn.

I break in the shower
Cold water washing
Away stray tears
I close my eyes, wishing
That I can lie better, hold it in more
I won't become Psychopath Galore.

I ease myself from torment and guilt
Doing math of mud and silt
I distance myself from reality
Delving into books, games and TV
It gives me more to think and talk
Prevents topics I may lie to balk.

The cycle continues
Each ends with regret
More crying, more practice
More disinterest, more malice
Until lie and truth share a shore
And I am a liar forevermore.