Humans hate the truth,
So do I. I lie, that I never lie, only to soothe,
But of all, it will be most uncouth.
Deceiving you, my dear Ruth…
I lie for my gains,
A soothsayer promising shine, when it rains.
But you see not beyond the rosy exterior,
To thorny insides of a liar.
Is it my ebony skin?
That veils the falsehoods from my tongue within.
My sexed hands, filthy with the murk of promiscuity,
Glazed in gloves golden for tender touches of mendacity.
Darling, if this is the truth about my nature
Then it must be a lie for sure.
I know you hate the truth,
But I hope you accept this liar’s sooth.