False Truth

A short poem I made a while back, considering philosophical concepts such as truth, reality, and falsity. It is published on a different site as well.

If reality is at it is,

and reality is real,

and fiction is fake,

then why do we shake

when we see a shadow

in the corner of our eye,

well,

isn’t that shadow simply a lie?

Why do we believe that false fiction,

and sprint away from life’s eviction,

is it because we do not recognize

the truth that lies within our eyes?

Then again, wasn’t that same truth we observe

disproven in our foolish mirth?

Perhaps we naturally don’t realize

that our existence is, in our eyes,

built upon a foundation of lies?

For why should I say

what is true if I know not

whether not the truth is true,

because after all,

in this vast space-time ball,

deceitful lies resemble honest truth,

yet,

I may ascertain those lies as false,

and so my reality crumbles,

and then, I fumble,

attempting to reassemble my reality,

back again from cracked shards,

will I bring about my own demise,

reconstructing honest lies,

or perhaps act on the world’s stage,

once I realize I am locked in this cage?

Author's Note

Any thoughtful opinions and constructive criticisms are welcome.

Reviews

[Quill]

well i have got no thoughtful opinions, just wanted to sat this poem was very constructive.

[Aphy!]

Great start so far, I really liked and enjoyed reading it. Felt really calm (AND LIED TO) but overall it's a great start. Looking forward to seeing your stuff...fellow newbie (yes, i'm also new..welcome to the club hey)