A web of lies shield your mistakes from view, and I cannot help but notice that they are swathed around the truth like a cloth around a new-born. The truth is on the tip of my tongue, bitter and making me sick to my stomach as I look away from you.
Your lies are clever as they are convincing, and I cannot help the trickle of awe I feel as I fight the untruthful seduction of your words. Your lies hang above my head, and the bitter truth is swallowed painfully.
Perhaps this shall be a lie of my own.