Truth

The washing of smudges exists parallel to the venture from the safehouse of protecting lies.

For the guilt had thawed. So long had the blurred mother lie succumbed to the filter. For a tear in time, her every ounce of suffering echoed through the halls of Truth, now empty, having been liberated to wreak its feared havoc. The superior walls Denial once promised to Grief shattered as broken fragments, now showing its inversion; the deceiving cushions, exposed at last.

From the warning of the mother’s death upon the floodgates, water gushing from the seam, appeared a true stranger to the psyche of the quaking mind.

And in the dust of aftermath, Guilt is forced to escape the cavity it dug, disgusted by the reflection of Denial’s outer walls.

For Truth is the key to Grief’s cage. And like Death, Truth reconciles with Denial at the eve of time. It then settles within its roots, and awaits the calling for its nature; a true, beautiful damnation