A bitter pill

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The truth turns on its head
Doubts cloak its vessel
The breeze of one fatal mistake sweeps away
Even the residue of what was once true
Now buried in a trunk
Never to be seen or heard again
The sins of the sons will fervently burn
The skins of the fathers
And the truth will not matter anymore

(Written for The Sunday Whirl Wordle 19. Inspired by this news story.)

12 comments

  1. Jennifaye

    Thanks for the comments everyone! Working on the wordle this week was challenging…but fun. I’m really enjoying this.🙂

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