Sometimes the truth I read and hear,
And recognize it being true,
Oft more annoying than of cheer
That truth be known and now I knew.
I do not want truth anymore
When it is easier to lie.
Truth is a never ending chore
And bothers when it is nearby.
I keep wishing that I could find
A way to make truth gone for good,
No longer settled on my mind,
Just lie forever if I could.
Truth is like dust, I have to say,
Comes back each time I wipe away.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem