Gently lie

There are gentle lies welded to the frame of my soul
That keep my flesh inflated and erect.
There are myths and stories that animate my steps
And that light in my eyes
Is just an act.
I am the sandbags hanging from the rope
That lifts that velvet curtain
I am that single bulb on the lamp stand at the center of the stage
And when you hear the box of percussion toys dropped in the back room
I am that cymbal that goes rolling.
There are illusions with secrets hidden in smoke
And when that frame holding me up
Has corroded with age
And fatigued from use
And had been bent or broken from injury
I will need your gentle lies to pull it all
to pull it all back together.

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