And if I told you the truth,

Would you hate me?

Even more than you already do?

Or would the truth soothe,

Soothe the gaping wound left in you.

Will it dissolve the guilt I feel?

Even though, I'd do it again?

 

I fear, even if I’d decide to,

To tell you the truth,

I no longer know what it is.

It's been warped into easily digestible tablets,

Washed down with white grape juice,

With your nose pinched and eyes closed.

 

You’ve swallowed my lies down,

Do I dare force it back up?

Bare my heart, my mind,

Show how deeply you hurt me?

Admit to you, to myself,

That I allowed your manipulation?

 

Should I shove the truth down

more harshly instead?

My hand tightened around your mouth.

Allowing your sins to drown you.

Force you to face what you’ve done-

Face who you actually are.

 

Or do I let it go,

One last final gift to you,

The peace that comes with being

The so-called victim,

The victim you’d always,

Painted yourself to be.

 

Which would be worse?