Your lie

Your lie

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Hi. I’m a lie.

I sit inside your mind. I tell you all to die. Hi. I’m a guy. I sit outside and tell you you’re mine. Hi. Why oh why is he so shy. Hi. I’m a lie. And I’m stuck inside your mind. I sent some messages to some friends online a few weeks ago and none of them replied. All from the same town, friend group, or crew, I went through my mind as to why would they not reply. Did I die. Was that why. Are my only friends in the sky? Was it my mind? Was I blind? Did I lie? Was it my why?

This is what happens. When I’m cornered into thinking, dreaming, and being abused. By the lie.

My mind made it up. That I should just shut up. 

What I have to say is never enough.

What I said that day was tough love.

What I said that day was wrong.

What I said that day, that I wrote you a song.

What I said that day, that I had a job.

What I said that day that you were a good Mom.

What I said that day, that I told you for six months straight I wanted to get along and come stay.

What I saw that was always wrong.

The night I recorded you a song. The night I wrote that I was wrong. The night I wrote that I wanted to cry. The night I wrote you goodbye. The time I said I was fine. The time I said no more drive. The time I said I could be wrong. The time I couldn’t be wrong. The time I pressed unsend. And the time I pushed you off the bed. The time I tried to toke. And the time I payed for the toll. The time I tried to upload. And the time I tried to be woke. The time I tried to cry. And the time I spent. I lied. I walked back in that night. I turned and went on a drive. I sat in sheer disgust and the time I looked for both of us. I look at you and I found you. Out of the blue you showed me what cappuccino meant to you and the time you wrote a song and I texted you and told you it was all wrong. The lies we sang along and pretended. You didn’t write a PB&J song. Part of me knew that day. I really shouldn’t stay. But part me told me to walk back in. And just throw another French fry at him. The end.


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