The world is full of lies. It has been long time, till now, and out of idea, words just got manipulated. Make no sense, wondering, what does make things right, and what doesn’t. Yet, living seems to be better, perhaps for tomorrow.
Tomorrow, does it guarantee something for someone, or forever, just a future to the future? We wander. Who doesn’t?
Lies, make sense, it is truth. And truth hurts, doesn’t it? Perhaps the truth always hurt, and the truth on lies, hurting more.
To the future, existence is being query, and past, something can’t be changed. Perhaps, present, this moment, is making sense.
The world is full of lies, without liar. How romantic, ironic, it can be.
The world is without liar, full of lies.
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