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This hypothetical truth can't be told,



Trivial as it may seem, perhaps wry,



This enigma it is will not be sold.



This feeling I have is getting so old,



All day, all night, into my life they pry,



This enigma it is will not be sold.



The pressure they put on me won't make me bold,



It may seem inconsequential to try,



This hypothetical truth can't be told.



It is I, so bluntly, they try to mold,



Their fountain of truth is forever dry,



This enigma it is will not be told.



The words they say, at heart, seem very cold,



But all I can do is sit back and sigh,



This hypothetical truth can't be told.



I give up; I lay down my cards as a fold



I study myself, hot tears I do cry,



This hypothetical truth can't be told,



This enigma it is will not by sold.

COMMENTS

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Isis101
21:51 Nov 12 2009

nice...!

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