There is only one

Thing in the world

Which can never be

Submerged or buried forever

It’s called the truth

It’s either offered freely

Or answered when asked

Or ferments and rots

When attempting to hide

Appearing like a rash

Or like erupting boils

Sometimes like tree stumps

Or potholes which halt

Even the deepest hope

The thing about truth

Is that it is

Like water sent to

Cleanse erode or crack

The best built walls

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