poems

Bones

Bones

02/06/17

The sound of truth will always vibrate through my bones, your bones. Bones.

That’s what the microscopic holes are for, it’s so the truth can get in, hold them stable.

Depending on your morals truth might make you less able.

Less stable, a mind metaphor.

Like when you can’t look in the mirror anymore.

I can.

Bones hold truth. They keep me upright. Obliged.

Stabalizing what we all hold inside.

Bones

©G.P Williamson 2017

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