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Untitled
September 29, 2013
The roof that covers the earth stands at different heights.
The more lies you tell, the closer it moves to the ground.
Lies are too heavy.
My fingers can skim the edges, leave stains on the clouds.
I can dim the stars and smear finger prints on the moon--even shatter suns.
Maybe some day the ceiling will finally cave in and smother me with my own words.
Good.
Time is of the essence, and honesty burns a little too
brightly for me.
© Kari S., Mesa, AZ
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