Stories galore to match the way I feel;

each day something new.

A morse code for something real;

The weight of secrets is a deadly brew.

A serpent’s whispers of lies;

a maze of scattered thoughts.

With each story, the truth dies.

Each lie nails me on the cross.

When I am alone in the darkness of night,

whispers of truth haunt my mind.

To speak what is real, I must hold tight.

Putting all the lies behind.

A soldier in a war must be true to his side.

Even if the enemy threatens to win.

Whose side am I on? I must decide.

I must choose to be honest with what’s within.

Storm