Lies slip off the tip of your tongue like water off a cliff
Smooth, unceasing, naturalised through years of practice
No remorse nor guilt
Always something hidden between the lines
Indiscriminate with no one spared
Compelled to constantly bury or deny
Piling on more lies when nearly caught
Like the tractor after a snowstorm in the night
Gaslight, but never an admission
Barefaced, unflinching, dishonest professions
The mask may have fooled many, if not all
But I have seen what lies beneath, with closer inspection
Burned by the realisation
Deceit is as natural to you as respiration
Trouble is, you are barely keeping up with the timeline of your own deceptions
A red thread peeked through beneath the shambles
I pulled and unravelled the mismatched fables
Split seconds of storytelling, you proudly see as wit
While I looked on, aghast and disappointed
It was nothing but pathological deceit
