Honesty Versus Truth Poem by Crystal Rosser

A man thinks - and then, he becomes;
He thinks of the lesser as fools and trolls,
He thinks of himself as a God,
And he is revered as such.

To what end does he distrust the lesser?
He trusts himself so much, he pushes
His truth onto me - Now what?
I shovel nothing but lies? Is that so?

My soul is a lying lake reflecting
All in nature, capturing serenity
From the sky, and it amounts
To a nothingness?

He will belittle anything remotely enchanting
And pure; He does not believe in a thing
So true and separate from his own being, and
I can not challenge such childish stubbornness.

And as frustrating, as pitifully exhausting
As it may seem, I find him
Strangely inviting and
Cool off the ordinary path.

A jigsaw of a man coming together, effortlessly
Piece-by-piece, If I hold my tongue and my thoughts,
Suddenly, I am beside myself,
He begins to fit into my heart.

No longer do I concern myself with how, but
Only with why he does this thing to me;
And this is only for him to reveal
Undoubtedly, at his own leisure.

If I were to give my assumption, or
Warrant my reasoning,
It would only be indicative of my Intentions, and thus,
For a man of truth, our satisfaction lies here-

For truth, on this plain, is ironically a draw.