Lies are the Lugers of our Overlords
Like whining’s the champagne of the uncouth.
Each time a blatant falsehood treads the boards,
Fact-checking it makes it a form of truth.
Testing a forgery will make it real.
Exposing counterfeits proclaims their worth.
And when, not what you know, but how you feel
Is gospel, we are beasts on a flat earth.
The truth once shamed our devils; now they laugh.
The truth once made us free; now it’s our jail.
We dug its grave and wrote its epitaph:
“We loved the facts, but wed the fairy tale.”
Lies are straightforward bullets none survive
Unless they swear that two and two are five.
Copyright 2016 Matthew J Wells