Viscously waiting, the truth lyes crouching. Waiting to pounce out of the night attacking it's prey devouring its victims life. Paralyzed by fear of what to come. Walking away unscathed hunting for more.
I like the idea that truth can kill. It can kill the image of ourselves that we portray with lies and embroidered truths, but I wish you had elaborated a little more. Peace, Aidan
