It amazes me the tales people tell themselves so they can convincingly play a part and dance their dance, look good on stage. And the whoppers they attempt to feed you with surely must come from somewhere because they certainly aren't the reality I saw, heard, and experienced, and I was there. My scars are real. The tooth fairy wasn't passing them out as she collected her teeth, my scars came from truth.
Truth is interesting. And sometimes truth is not your friend, when it's only half heard and half believed. When it's taken out of context. Or when you are led down a path only to find you were deceived by trust and your truth is walking a different road. Everyone has an agenda and sometime ugliness abides in someone's heart. You can only see and know your own heart though, your own truth.
It is sad to see a tragedy unfold, as brothers dance across a stage of merriment among their friends, only to find at the other side of the stage, drama and death in an ugly plot. And you realize the victim was you.
The End.
This is not a fair or just place.
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