to tell the truth, steven humphreys, poem, poetry, prose

To Tell the Truth

To those who are courageous

enough to tell the truth,

(or not)

we ask of them;

‘when will I finally

be me?’

Who are so afraid

they would not be liked?

But, you will have people

like you instead of the phony

wrapper around you.

But, it is that way in the world

so that one gets by to another day.

I say to you,

Lose all those fair weather friends

who didn’t know you because you didn’t


The time to come out of that

hiding place is at hand.

Be you, all of you,

with all your might

because the cost is truly worth

every shekel.

You just might meet the love of your life

and live happily ever after.

You just might go back to school

and get a real job for once in your life.

You just might make a real friend

(even maybe two)

instead of all those user-losers you’ve

been hangin’ around all this time who

dragged you down.

Who knows?

You won’t know unless you shake off that phony skin.

There is a cost in retrieving your soul. It is called character building. but, you will get paid

handsomely, because you will like what you see.

You will find the keys to your soul;

the one you thought they’d taken


You can demand they give it back because they

cannot refuse you.

Yet, they cannot give you what they

never took away

you say,

‘give me back what’s mine!

my dignity first, because I am

brave, not the coward you once thought!’

and, tiny Mr. Devil standing on one shoulder says,

‘I never took your soul! you gave it

to me cheaply because you didn’t believe enough

in you to hold on to it.

It crept away with its tail between its legs and I found it.

I fed it and it’s now my pet. it belongs to me.’

you ask,

‘how do I know you are telling me the truth?’

he replies,

‘I’m a Godd____d liar, but not all the time. Even I

tell the truth once in a while, you idiot!’

you demand,

‘I want it back! How do I become me without it?’

he replies,

‘be honest

with yourself and truthful to others

and it will reappear

in its own time.’

you say,

‘Oh, God, if I could only find

myself and be who I am!’

the devil replies,

‘that hole in you will be

filled when you decide

you are ready

to show others the stuff you’re made of.’

You look over to the little angel

silently waiting impatiently tapping its foot

opposite the devil

and ask,

‘Well, what do you think Mr. Angel?’

the cute cherub quickly snaps back,

‘Can’t you see I’m a girl you big dumb-ass?’


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