Since I spent ridiculous amounts of time coming up with this, I thought I'd record my sonnet here. I always start poetry as kind of trivial but it always ends up being serious. Or at least more serious than I had originally planned.
Oh what a laugh that one should dare to trust
A Word, expressed, so oft in times of love.
For petty difference and selfish rust
Will break the Word despite the strength thereof.
A Word may seem, in dire times of need,
A promise spoken in sincerity.
But wiser men will wisely pay no heed
To words that make of kindness, mockery.
The call of common nature dictates thus:
The fox will always lie to get his way.
And so the cunning have their way with us
If we would prove so gullible a prey.
Then to the fool who thus would speak I cry:
In trusting there is hope; in lies we die!
I love the last line "In trusting there is hope; in lies we die!" It's true that in trusting someone, but not being them, we can only hope they are telling us the truth and giving us the same courtesy back. And yes, with telling lies and believing in lies we can internally die and become a type of person that we once despised. A literal death I think, would be more welcoming then a moral death by lies.
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