POEM: Deceit Days

What an apple!
–spoiled and rotten
The weave of lies
is soon forgotten.
Cast and reel,
no hook is set.
Which lie is true?
He soon forgets.

He says,
Just let me be, and I won’t lie.
But ask me now and it’s fib or die.

The lying life is tenuous.
Backpeddling? Strenuous

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