Life is like an umbrella. Our lies are like rain.
When they pour, we’re protected. If held steadily
And if it has no holes, the umbrella works well.
We can feel that we’re not wet. No others can tell
That we’ve got a storm going. Not even we see
The fake self we’ve created, yet we expect gain.
I must bullshit myself in sophisticated
Ways that I’ve learned from childhood, impressed upon me
by religion, my elders and society.
Then I’ll add my own bullshit most egregiously.
The truth does not come easily if I won’t see
All of it with full clarity… not self-mislead.
Life can only get better at catching my lies
And should they become hail-like, the life torn to shreds
Will then have to come up with one that is more real.
Living in simple truthfulness is most ideal.
I can stop second guessing what’s in people’s heads.
Myself in its true brilliance is my best disguise.