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In the quiet halls of thought, where whispers tread,
Lies weave webs, in shadows they are bred.
But truth, like dawn, breaks night’s sly guise,
A silent sentinel, it never dies.
Beneath the masquerade, where falsehoods dance,
Deceit with silver tongue, enchants in trance.
Yet, through the veils of sweet deceit that flies,
Stands unadorned, the stark and naked truth that lies.
Upon the fortress high, where honesty reigns,
No shadows lurk, no darkened blemish stains.
Though lies may storm the gates, in fierce disguise,
The walls hold firm, for truth knows not demise.
In gardens green, where trust does gently bloom,
Lies wilt and wither, finding naught but gloom.
For every seed of doubt that one might try,
Is met with truth’s clear sun, that dries the lie.
Along the river’s flow, where clarity streams,
Lies find no refuge, no place in its dreams.
For every murky cloud that muddies the skies,
Is cleansed away by truth, which purifies.
A single flame burns bright, with integrity’s fire,
Lies cannot stand the heat, they shrink, retire.
For in the light of truth, so fiercely ablaze,
The shadows cast by lies, simply erase.
Through canyons deep, where echoes bound and fly,
The sound of truth resounds, it cannot lie.
Though lies may shout, may clamor for a prize,
It’s truth’s soft echo that will harmonize.
Beyond the reach, where horizons wide expand,
Lies lose their way, in vastness they disband.
For truth, like light, stretches far and wide,
A beacon for the lost, a faithful guide.
A symphony plays, with sincerity’s note,
Lies cannot sing along, they miss the rote.
For truth’s pure melody, so clear and precise,
Is harmony that lies can’t counterfeit or splice.
Upon the canvas vast, where reality paints,
Lies are but smudges, faint and taint.
But truth, with strokes bold, colors every size,
A masterpiece that stands, truth over lies.
At journey’s end, where all paths must converge,
Lies falter, fade, as truths emerge.
For in the final count, when all is apprised,
It’s truth that stands, victorious over lies.
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