Lies are hated

Lies are said by many

Yet, lies help one stay sated

Once they open the pages of plenty

It sounds odd

For what pages could be happy lies?

A writer, unless killing a favorite, can’t be a liar flawed

But we make up names and laugh at the characters’ cries

We lie about trust in the midst of a betrayal

We lie about love when it’s unreal

Writers are liars through their portrayal

It’s funny, but when we first write in ink, it’s signed a liar’s deal