If Your Lies Were True

To the one this may reach —

May something in these words find you.

Not just to shake you, but to stir you —

A truth, a mirror, a whisper of clarity.

May it meet you somewhere between defense and awakening.

And in some way, shape, or form… leave something with you.

The lies you tell —

they sound like truth

in some alternate world,

a world where I am the one

who never wanted the love.

Where I am the liar,

the cheater,

the darkness in your story, 

the destroyer of what you could’ve been. 

And in that world?

If I weren’t me,

watching this like a bystander, 

I’d probably believe you.

I’d support you.

I’d cheer you on like a hero.

I’d hope for you,

have faith in you,

believe you’d win the fight —

because in that world,

you’d deserve it.

If your lies were true…

I would leave you already.

I would hand you everything you wanted.

I would step aside,

because I never wanted this burden.

Because I hate the obligation.

Because deep down,

I know you never wanted me here

if this is how it had to be.

I’d hate that I hate what I do

because it goes against you.

But I’d hate it even more

that I still want to make peace with you.

If your lies were true…

You’d already have it all.

Everything you pray for, fight for, cry for.

Because what is good — truly good,

what is from God —

can’t be stopped.

No one could stand in your way.

But here’s the thing —

your lies aren’t true.

That’s why we can’t find peace.

That’s why I can’t just agree with you,

no matter how much I want to.

Because I have to tell the truth —

truths you’ve never been able to hold.

Because all you’ve known… is lies.

All you’ve known is hate.

All you’ve known are schemes

and masks

and moments made to manipulate.

You called it survival.

You called it strength.

But it was only ever deception.

And that deception became your home.

You felt whole in it —

but you never were.

You never knew love.

You never knew where it came from —

which is a home.

A father.

A mother.

A family.

The system is broken —

yes.

But your pain isn’t just because of your history,

or roots.

It’s because of what you chose to believe about it.

What you chose to do with it.

History repeats itself

when we let it.

When we don’t break the cycle.

But you…

you turn your chains into a crown.

You claim victimhood like it is royalty.

You glorify your shame.

You build your identity out of pain

and you blame the ones who escape it.

You blame us for taking the exit

you never reached for.

I’m sorry this is your reality.

I’m even more sorry

that you may never understand this.

But still, I hope you will.

I hope the truth — not mine, not yours, but The truth —

finds you.

I hope love does what lies never could.

I hope you realize freedom isn’t a feeling —

it’s a choice.

And healing doesn’t begin with blame —

it begins with surrender.

You can still be free.

Even now.