There are things
I will never understand.
The pain, the hate that
exists within my life.
There is nothing but time,
there is nothing real.
Truth is a concept,
no one ever sees.
No one ever feels it right,
and inside the truth
are only questions
of pain, of reality,
and a forgoing existence,
that has everyone living
outside the truth
and inside tradition,
opinion and thought.
With all being accepted now.
All truth changes in time…
“Do you remember yesterday?
Was last year the same? ”
In truth, death is reality.
Written November 22,1983
Sandra Osborne
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/truth/
