truth was
always
past
the words
but had no
other
house
one
followed it
hounds and
all
whiff
weakening
the skin
pricked up
sometimes
a growl
or any
little confidence
could yet
betray
the truth
and
sometimes
you could
taste
it too
sometimes
swallow
it could
come back up
that was
and is
the bitter
truth
mainly
though
gut's
incidental
truth's
dense with verbiage
it's been
cultivated
and here's
the hard cure
some lives
are
to tell
the truth
until it's
gone
be lost
to find a
way
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