I am just going to write.
Write, until whatever is agitating me departs.
Leaving nothing except black marks on paper.
A piece of prose or a poem.
Or maybe just the truth.
Truth is hardly ever written about.
Appearing to be elusive, dilly dallying in the shadows.
Marking time.
Silently it waits, threatening exposure.
I am just going to write.
I have no fear of exposure.
It is only the written truth that will liberate me.
No longer intertwined in the fabrication of fictional untruths.
Falsehoods evolving over time erode truth.
Altering perception, with a view to deception.
I am just going to write.
What you did.
You LIED.
I am no longer agitated.
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