“The Beautifully Ugly Truth” By Robin Chappell

Words on paper are better spoken silently than through the lips of a liar

Ink pens have saved me like the tightly woven net beneath a trapeze

They never end and lead me around like infinity on repeat

Clothing my wounds delicately after the calm of every storm

I change nothing and remain docile because my soul is weathered and worn

The fight has left the weight of my bones and size of my heartdecrepit

Anxiety and the doubt trickle from the cracks of a filthy glass egg

How greatly I fear not being heard in life, yet finally understood in death

Only during the moments I’d have no power to defend all trueintentions

Nor explain the intricate placement of selective words

The ink pens…those simple Made in China ink pens

They are the only just beings holding all the nakedness of a phrase

The exaggerations of a story and feathered woes at the tips of a Haiku

Haunting me at any given moment…forcing the beautifully ugly truth

It could all be for nothing and it could all be for neither me nor you…

Only for time to know that it once was

Watered down whispers of misplaced substance and abuse

The result of insanity at its loudest

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