I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

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When the many-mouthed yet faceless voice,

Whose languages rages even as it sighs,

Repeats between the crowded days and cuts

A wordy wound across my palm that’s pressed

Against the window to her soul,

I feel beyond the simple sense

To touch the place where all her secrets lie

And bind my eye to beauty out of sight;

A beauty born when her sentence formed is

Worth more than the sum of this world’s truth.