Truth is dreary
it’s uncreative.
I'd rather glory in a dream that
carries the soft lilt
of the mystical loon's call
and yet; disappears like the shine of the
brightest of stardust.
For that; until and unto
the end of ruins,
too enthusiastically and exhaustedly,
I will be called a liar.
Make no mistake though,
I shall carry no shame.
Because while it isn't all true,
it's mine
And I shan't take that gospel
with a pinch of salt, no.
Instead, I shall savor it
like the last bite,
the gooey centre of a
Peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

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