she sought with dark, reflective eyes

to See, to Testify,

and like her hair -- sincere, coal black --

Display without a gap.

​

no coercive question ever

could wrest a fib from her,

for she said only what she Meant

and ne'er what she didn't;

​

the world's receptacle of Truth,

Speech was the Perfect Proof --

then arrived some wretched trickster

who made a whore of Words --

​

through one score and five years of life

she paid for Truth with strife,

but fortresses that guard Belief

are not maintained with ease;

​

the girl of fifteen years would roar

to defend her honour;

just why did you stop calling it

the way that you saw it?

​

for with those very Words of mine

i made and told a lie --

betrayed my authenticity

for thirty silver As.

​

i lost some of her great defiance,

courageous insolence;

i missed her Words' audacity -- 

and bitter honesty.