WARNING: SLIGHTLY GRAPHIC CONTENT. Composed shortly after the revelation that my best friend was a worthless liar who weaved a web of lies around me for nine months. Lies rot a person from the inside out.

Let liars late from deadly dreams awake,

To vex and moan and feel their body shake.

They know death comes to bear his awful scythe

And dread the secret hour he takes their life.

 

Let liars stand perplexed before the court

To bore their peers with words of no import.

For who would heed their sorry pleadings now?

The noose, you see, their sorry head does crown.

 

Let liars lie in beds their hands have made

And send their spirit soaring to the Shades.

For though they settle in a comfy bed,

The coffin slams and chokes them doornail dead.

 

Let liars roll into their unmarked plots,

For kin and friends will them remember not.

Or if they do, they'll labor to forget

The painful times that trust turned to regret.

 

Let liars still alive return to truth,

That fountain flowing with eternal youth.

Reverse your years of rotting and decay

And make the Reaper's swinging scythe to stay.


Submitted: August 18, 2019

© Copyright 2023 R. Howe. All rights reserved.

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hullabaloo22

Deceit is hard to take, especially from ones that you have trusted. A poem with both excellent rhythm and rhyme.

Sun, August 18th, 2019 7:29pm

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