|Practically every meaningful word which I have uttered is wrong.|
How can I say this, don't I know what I am saying?
It is exactly because of what I have said and not ment,
That I can now say my words are fiction.
Had I known what was most true, that is what I would not reveal.
Somehow we are like frightened children, scared of the truth.
All my secrets have made me a Liar, you and I are not alike.
The cat and the dog hold nothing back, save for indifference.
We speak in guarded undertones, hoping not to annoy.
We save our feelings for when the time is best.
But we have missed the mark, time has had its way.
Another thought another day, and we are busy with fresh denials.