The truth is like ink that leaks from a pen
no matter how careful you are filling the nib.
The truth is like the gel you place under
an expensive vase so it cannot be knocked off
the shelf. The vase remains unbroken,
but the ooze that spreads from underneath it
distracts from its purpose. The truth is like
those pictures with twenty tigers disguised
in the bark of trees or across the skyline,
hidden behind every word uttered by a liar.