That Long And Verbose Decision Poem by RIC BASTASA

i know it
when you, all of you, are guilty
about what you are doing,
you take refuge in
a long composition, a vine of words,
bushes that you run about,
hoping that
the stain in the paragraphs
cannot be seen
by this eye, this

eye of truth, that leaves
no stone
standing on the road,
but if you accept the wrongdoing
you could have said
a little, or
nothing at all, or you could have written
only a poem,

for words hide, and silence
exposes
what lies, what monster is
there
ready to eat you all
alive.