Thursday, March 31, 2011

what insomnia does to you

Lie upon lie,
Tears are cried,
The truth to hide
So that mother won't chide.

Eventually she finds out,
And then takes us aside,
Warns us no man wants a bride,
Who to her mother has always lied.

That night in bed we cry,
And with a sigh,
Promise to say bye,
To ever saying a lie,
Till the day we die.

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