As real as rain.
As true as fires flame.

As real as the grass that grows.
And all the truth only the dirt knows.
You lurk in shadows, you’re frozen in fear.
Now that I know you, the reasons are clear.

​Are you locked away in what’s not real, are you untrue?
Illusion can be palpable to the weak, when it becomes tangible for you,
you use it to push people around.
Like an angry giant in his own tiny forest,
and a borrowed forest at that.

You made a paper crown for yourself.
You tried. It still turned to dust and blew away.
Still lying to yourself and everyone else and
nobody cares enough about you to set you straight.

After all, you are the thing to be feared.

That is what’s true, nothing about you is genuine.

But you never really were truly real.
Real like breath is real. Maybe you’ll choke on yours.
We both know you have it coming.
I am not frozen in fear, that’s for you.
I’ve been nothing but true.

True like pain is true.
Real like truth.

-H.R. Maxwell

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Creator of Gorgonzola Journalism, Author, Consultant, Drifter, Contract Polymath, Mediator to the Gods. M.H., C.H.T., O.M.D. https://campsite.to/mysticalmaven

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Hanna Maxwell & Fanny Adam's Ghost

Creator of Gorgonzola Journalism, Author, Consultant, Drifter, Contract Polymath, Mediator to the Gods. M.H., C.H.T., O.M.D. https://campsite.to/mysticalmaven