Slivers of silver bleed from the sky
That releases its diamonds with loss in its eyes.
They dampen my skin with a shawl made of sorrow,
Reminding themselves of the time they must borrow.

Truth is a lie that can seep through your pores,
Gilded with woe, but undoubtedly yours.
So gentle, it threads a web with glass pearls,
And kisses every new petal that is born and unfurls.

The touch of one's candor, the sweetest cadence of all,
Eliminates refuge behind fib-tainted walls
With a voice of its own that rejuvenates life,
That inscribes us with honor with a virtue-edged knife.

What is it that plunges from heaven to earth,
In the form of a tearstorm that hides its true worth?
Could the soil drink honesty into its veins?
After taking that sip, it is never the same.