A Poet’s Muse

The truth is a mean mistress.

She fights you for love and hate.

She may value what you may not,

Or laugh when people cry,

She calls everyone a liar,

Why does she tell the truth?

Her philosophy is partial to virtue,

Her voice depends on my good work.

Her stunning nature reveals all to anyone with no reservation.

My mind blisters looking into her face.

Her power overwhelms the human race.

She answers all her calls

And always stands her ground,

I dare to love her ways.

I blame myself when she is misunderstood,

I can’t help acting like a knave in her presence.

She is demanding, selfish and pure! https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Truth?wprov=sfti1

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