When Honesty Is Ugly

To whom, can I take this ugly honesty?

There is no one, I would like to even think of attempting to withstand the burning polemic that is to come from my mouth...

I have, for far too long been tempted to turn around and turn away from everything,

to take down every title and turn them into ashes‐

every word I've ever written to be thrown into the sea

and fire to be set to every thought I had prayed to be taken away.

To whom, besides He who created me can I take such ugly honesty?

On no one else would I think take out years of what I repeatedly write into these Tales of Torment...

I have, for far too long been tempted to trade my tears for blood...

for I have not climbed, but have been carried up through the tiers of suffering‐

I might just jump from where time has taken me...

as I am far too tempted to tear my ticket and turn in all I've been given to He who has given me everything.

To whom else can I take such ugly honesty?

On no one else do I wish to turn loose such a tirade...

I have, for far too long been tempted to turn away from the building that took part in saving me...

to take my turn in taking the last step away from this life everyone around says is a gift...

that I may never need or even want to write out another of these Tales of Torment‐

as time itself has turned into its own form of torture.

To whom, other than the one and only God who can save me from this nightmare can I take the ugliest of my honesty?

To no one else, do I dare tell of my toil completely unfiltered...

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