Lies of the Ever-Living
Lies of the Ever-Living
Offered before me
Are two lies;
And I must choose one
If I am to survive.
One easier to swallow,
The other sweeter;
One would wound me
The other make me a dreamer.
The dream, though fair,
Would, in time, cause me pain.
But that I would gladly risk,
For the moment of peace I would gain.
The nightmare, on the other hand,
Would shatter my faith,
And I would once more,
Seek the life of a wraith.
But when the night ends
And a new day I start,
The nightmare would leave me whole,
But the dream would break my heart.
These are not choices
That any man ought make.
To see his future as an illusion,
Or his past as a great mistake.
In one path I close my eyes,
And walk blindly,
Until I fall off a cliff,
When I face reality.
But the other is to look in the mirror
As I tell myself a lie,
That I love not whom I love,
And my feelings I deny.
There are others lies, of course,
Other fantasies.
But in all I lose my soul,
And forgo my identity.
The truth, however
Is the hardest to bear;
For it binds me here,
In this pit of darkness and despair.
And so I must decide,
Pick my own hell.
Whether one made of nightmares,
Or dreams, only time can tell.
The choice, I suppose,
I’ve known all along.
I cannot walk a path,
I know to be wrong.
And so, I choose,
And thus I decide,
To remain as I am:
The man who does not die.
For this is the last right
Of a man of action:
The right to believe
His own lies,
And the right to choose,
His own hell.