The Truth That Changes Shape

The morning sun invades the room like a forensic light
Exposing every jagged lie I nurtured through the night
I gaze upon the woman sleeping naked in my bed
Her skin is just a map of all the hollow words I said
I thought I built a temple out of logic and control
But I was merely digging out a deep and narrow hole
The choices of my younger self are artifacts of clay
Dissolving in the acid of a brand new fucking day

The truth is shifting underneath my heavy boots
I am pulling up the garden by its withered roots
The mirror is a stranger with a face I used to know
Watching all the certainties begin to melt like snow
I am waking in the wreckage of a life I didn’t choose
Counting up the things I was terrified to lose