Description
Cardstock postcard and envelope.
liar
i lie to my daughters every day.
i hate lying,
i hate pretending.
i hate wiping my tears
in quick movements
almost as much as i hate the fact
that they fell in the first place.
putting on a brave face
is a herculean feat.
i unsheathe my sword
my scabbard worn
and hold up my cracking armor
just so i can remain their hero.
but wouldn’t i still be heroic
if i let my armor fall?
let them see my scars?
wouldn’t that be the bravest thing of all?
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