Not perception,
not reaction,
but what is.

Under veils,
under paint,
chip it off to reveal

something feared.
Held at arm’s length.

Don’t look too close
one might choke,
if unready to face.

Still it waits.
Can’t be erased,
for it still is.

©2021 Mary Grace van der Kroef

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6 thoughts on “Truth

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