Writing prompt: lies
You don't want to know the truth
When you ask how I am.
Not really, unless it's fine, great, fantastic.
One of the acceptable answers.
You barely stop to hear the answer, anyway.
But that's okay,
Because I don't really want to tell you.
Don't want to drag myself through the mud of my mind,
The truth of ugly thoughts and fear,
The forked tongue brain that makes me think:
I'd rather curl up and cry.
The smile is a deception
The armour that lets me face your fleeting question.
I pretend to wear the rose coloured glasses
That everyone wears,
Though mine are really grey.
When I take them off I don't see rose,
But a kaleidoscope of colours.
How much more fun
To live a rainbow lie
Than to exist in rose or grey.
My lies are more true
Than your reality, anyway.