The Truth of the Matter
You are not real, though many wish you were.
You fill strangers with false joy, and friends with anger and mistrust.
You possess the uncanny ability to keep the peace between a husband and wife, but you can also become that which tears them apart.
You can be small or you can be grand. But it is when you build and build upon yourself that you are at your weakest, poised to crumble when the light inevitably comes shining through.
You are an excuse, a mirage, a story we tell ourselves. You are a slap in the face and the straw that broke the camel’s back.
You cannot look at yourself in the mirror and like what you see.
You live among the rich and poor, and you thrive among the jealous hoards.
Many would deny you as a most unwelcome guest.
But the more often someone speaks of you, the more acceptable you become.
And those miserable, unsuspecting scoundrels obsess over you, embracing a vicious lover who rips at the souls of those who hold you dear.
You’re a balm for the wicked and a leper to the virtuous.
You are sinister.
You are brutal.
You are a lie.