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by Ernest A Miller

you tell one and it seems like nothing
until the next time you create to conceal it
then you create something to conceal again
until this little thing some may call white is
amorphous all encompassing, inescapable
your life is swallowed by your own little world
in and of that world
watching from inside your own snow globe
hoping for the courage or the strength
to knock yourself off the table
once and for all


Author's Note: This lie in less than two years has done more damage than the hollerhoax lie and seems like that lie, perpetrated by the same tribe, will never end.

Posted on 09/22/2004
Copyright © 2022 Ernest A Miller

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Vikki Owens on 04/25/05 at 02:27 PM

wow. just wow.

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