Apprehensive of the plot i’ve conceived,
the seeds i’ve sown,
the lies I’ve weaved.
I swallowed the guilt like a heavy tonic,
I pencilled over the stencil of truth,
a white lie won’t hurt you,
I say as butterflies line my stomach.
I fear the way my eyes betray me,
the tremors in my fingers,
as I open my mouth and let tumble forth,
the distorted reality that I wish you to believe.