The Lies They Tell To Children


The lies they tell to children,
Are neither fair nor true.
They say the grass is always green,
And the sky is always blue.
They speak of love and flowers
And tell about no pain.
And never do they breathe a word,
About trying a task in vain.
They say the world is perfect,
That there's no need for change.
They don't speak of dying flowers,
Or life's unfair exchange.
An exchange of trials for nothing,
The trade of pain for more,
The cries and screams of anguish,
A dull and constant roar.
They ignore the wilting flowers,
Strewn along the ground,
Where someone plucked and left them,
To die and not be found.
The fact is, quite often, kid,
That the grass is brown, not green.
And the skies are a pale grey,
With a melancholy sheen.
The lies they tell make it seem
That we live beneath the shining sun,
When the truth is, dear children,
The hurt is never done.

Penned by my hand on the 16th of Fas, in the year 527 AD.