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What Became of Truth ©

Niall Mackay
Aberdeen, Scotland
2007

Truth murders appearance,
No more place for it in this world,
Than for the sun at midnight,
Speak but honest interference,
Of tongues chained and curled,
And the devil will delight,
For Truth is dead.

Lies instead make mantle,
Beneath which to reside in respite,
And shield thy weakened soul,
Yet soft and dark and gentle,
Creeps the darkness past the light,
Taking measures from the whole,
For Truth is dead.

Words sharp and sour,
Forge the wrong from the right,
Humble in their malice,
Embodied in the power,
Of a shortening of sight,
And of caring coming callous,
For Truth is dead.

I will bear no more pains,
In this world carved in shadow,
Standing ‘gainst the night,
For where pity bears the stains,
And the meanings wane and shallow,
Black becomes as White,
For Truth is dead.



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