Lie.

They say white lies are pure,

how can you be so sure,

if that was so true,

then why do we more than- 

white lie?

When all we can

is  relentlessly

be truthful.

Carrying the cross,

for being so gross,

let's bear the pain,

and anchor our reign.

For it is us who make our life,

so we never harbor strife,

if pregnant with lies,

leads us to the mice,

for if we show might,

then there is no reason,

to blight.

Every time you lie, maybe you want to mark "x" in your scrapbook? Reminds us of the magnitude with which lies live in us.