I was wakened in the early morning
by the rude ringing of a bell
sounding far off in the distance
in the restlessness of my private hell.
Thunder rumbled before the rain began
I nestled deeper within a dream
sheltered by the umbrella of a lie
for things aren't always as they seem.
I heard her say, "Hello," in the soft cry
of my inner voice, my loyal protector,
my sinful guardian, the little white lie.
Without conscience, my haunting specter.
She's still here and so am I
Frustration lives inside my head,
too often the sorrowful reason I cry
from saying the things I most dread.
There are times when I feel broken
and again she whispers in my ear,
"Have no fear and rest assured
I am here to mend your fearful soul
with a little untruth, softly spoken.
Let me lead. I'll take control."
A gift of friendship I cannot pay,
no small token for being spurned.
A mortal's price for wearing a frown
replaced by the sly smile of a lie
when my world is twisted and turned
completely upside down.
There will be more bells ringing,
more thunderstorms coming my way
but I have a shield that I cowardly wield
that keeps me dry from pouring rain
and the pain I live with every day.
In my mind or resting on my shoulder,
her voice rules when I am weak.
She takes charge and becomes bolder,
a quick thinker when truth I cannot speak.
I lament over each yesterday
and the memories of my lies.
That she will leave me alone, I pray
and soon she'll whisper a final, "Goodbye."