Tarnished Lies

Slowly, sinfully, her life disintegrated from what it once was. Full of ponds and rush weeds, liberating a baby duck that she had rehabilitated, tacky costume jewelry, and sticky fingers from roasting marshmallows to that perfect golden brown over grills in the back yard, her life had been grasped by the throat and dragged down, strangled with its own hand.

Turned towards what glittered like a treasure chest of gold, but in truth was nothing but buffed up plastic, she was taught lies- shined up and finished, tossed around to knock off anything with a potential to be displeasing. She was taught that twice was three too many, and once was four too much; nothing at all was the goal, refinished and refined into a sparkling truth that only liars would believe. Pulling away from the intangible falsities only put her closer to the painful truth of reality's harshness, and with each struggle she became more tangled in the web as she inevitably pulled back. The diamond-crusted lies shone brighter than the truth, and even at recognition of it being untrue, she would feed herself more lies, refusing that she was deceived while deceiving herself.

But life is not lied to, and death does not pull away from nonbelievers. Shielding herself from reality, she fed upon the sweet syrup the lies leaked. Until bloated with untruths, she was what she took, nothing more than lies. And in tears, reality took hold, the reality of lies, and it all came together, bound in a knot and tied with a tarnished bow. Collapsed, the golden lies fell apart, frayed and dulled by bitter winds.

But in truth, she lived for the lies, and she was the lies, and lies were all she had to please her. She would weave more lies into an intricate pattern, which in reality was nothing more than a knotted mess. Now, without her petty falsities, and no truths left to nurture, she turned from them both, turned from the sun and the moon, and with nothing left to face- gone those rush weeds, the dress-up jewelry, those sticky fingers. She was blinded by the truth, scarred by that which opposes it, and chased away both, alone, to only comfort her broken self.