Liar.
Stand before me dressed in your deceit;
look me in the eye and tell me
that the chain of untruths draped around your neck
is nothing but jewelry.
Tell me that each link is but a silver lined
ring, simply a pendant disguised
to look like a noose.
Tell me true.

You can’t.

Liar.
I only see you at the end of my arrow head;
I only see a target, a neck reddened with guilt
and a forehead slick with shame.
Watch out, or else your sweat will freeze
to crystal beads, encrusting your
cheeks in all your splendor-
your wretched, backward splendor.
Now all the world will know.
They’ll spy you, dripping with faux diamonds,
and they’ll see you for what you are-
a fabricator.
Tell me true.

You can’t.

Because you’re a liar.