The Truth is far more Painful Given than Received.

There is a sweetness to the fruits of ignorance I rarely taste, too drunk on the wine of Naiveté is the reason I suppose.

What Say you

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I consider myself a wielder of truth, not because I am its servant,  its protector, or its slave. I say this because it is something that through me has become weaponized.

Do not mistake for a moment, that in this somber revelation, I am see it as a moment to regale as if some great boon has befallen me. Far from it.

For me its the assassins blade, the huntsmen’s bow, the executioners axe. I can no more avoid it as shore bound rocks can the breaking tide.

You think, that I may be in a fit of self aggrandizing drama to speak in such a bellicose, but absolutist way.

You would be In Err.

I see the truth regardless, if am I looking, denying, begging that it be hidden, fearful that upon its reveal, of its outright destruction of me.

The truth is, I always see it, for what it is, and so often that weapon leaves its wounds all over, but without exception…

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