|  The naked truth is the final trait of reality.
Once, proud was I.
As strong as an ox.
As compassionate as a priest.
As understanding as a therapist.
I have succumbed to the lowest form of humanity.
Courageous in my world of lies,
my faith being deceit.
Like partners, I have intertwined you with me,
creating spontaneous combustion within my conscience.
I have worn myself out by running from the truth.
And now the mirrored image haunts me.
I am without speech, for my words are offensive.
I am without sight, for it is clouded.
I am without heart, for it has hardened.
I am without sound, for it has muffled.
I am without soul, for it has drowned.
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