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At the End of the Lie

once held a song,

By Moharif YuliantoPublished 24 days ago 1 min read
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At the End of the Lie
Photo by Alvaro Reyes on Unsplash

The gilded cage, once held a song,

A melody of trust, so strong.

Woven with whispers, soft and sweet,

A tapestry of lies, at my feet.

Years spun by, in a waltzing daze,

Lost in the warmth of a borrowed gaze.

Blinding love, a gentle snare,

Kept me tethered, unaware.

The whispers grew, shadows took hold,

Cracks in the gilded cage, turning cold.

Doubt's icy breath, a chilling breeze,

Rustled the leaves of woven ease.

A single truth, a whispered word,

Shattered the comfort, unheard.

Dissonance tore, a discordant chime,

The melody faltered, lost in time.

The cage dissolved, with a deafening crash,

Reality's weight, a crushing splash.

Deception's mask, a broken shell,

Left me exposed, a story to tell.

Anger surged, a bitter tide,

Years of trust, cast aside.

The warmth I craved, a flickering flame,

Consumed by betrayal, whispered name.

Tears fell like rain, cleansing the sting,

Of misplaced faith, a broken wing.

Grief, a heavy cloak, draped in despair,

The burden of lies, a weight to bear.

But in the ashes, a seed did remain,

A flicker of strength, defying the pain.

The shattered trust, a jagged scar,

A reminder of who I truly are.

The path ahead, shrouded in mist,

Uncertain steps, where shadows exist.

But with trembling hands, and a newfound light,

I rise from the wreckage, taking flight.

The whispers now, echoes of the past,

A lesson learned, that cannot be unsurpassed.

Vulnerability, a shield I shall wield,

For truth's compass, will never be sealed.

The journey long, to rebuild and mend,

To find my voice, where lies once did ascend.

Embrace the scars, a map of the fight,

For love that is true, will find its own light.

No longer a puppet, on strings of deceit,

My heart, a compass, my rhythm complete.

For at the end of the lie, a truth remains,

The power within, breaks shattered chains.

And though the path may be filled with thorns,

I'll bloom anew, where resilience is born.

For freedom's song, cannot be confined,

At the end of the lie, my own truth I find.

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About the Creator

Moharif Yulianto

a freelance writer and thesis preparation in his country, youtube content creator, facebook

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Comments (2)

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  • Esala Gunathilake24 days ago

    How nice it is!

  • This was a beautiful poem! I loved it!

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