am I cruel for lying to a liar

A twisting blade is pushed into my back and I gasp

breath escapes me now and flutters out of reach

almost...

almost!

like a butterfly that simply

skips

just

far

enough

away

so that my desperate hands and my desperate lungs

both fall

just barely short

and I'm saying something,

and I'm wondering to myself what it is

maybe I'll never know

but I almost do and

it's almost a response to these words

that aren't mine, but for me

and I'm broken

never been more

b

r

o

k

e

n

except the blood brought by a blade is

fading fearsomely fast from

my mistaken, miserable mind and

I hear something I didn't want to hear because I know

It's the farthest thing from

and anything but

and absolutely not

true

and another twist from a blade buried deep in my back because I realize

what I'm saying is as blantantly untrue

and I'm a liar as well

and even more so

than who I'm listening to

because "It's okay"

is not the correct response to "I'm sorry"

when everything is definitely not okay.

But I stand and although I have been murdered,

absolutely obliterated, and I catch the butterfly breath because I am a liar

I do what my killer does not expect,

and wouldn't dare to yet hope from me.

I give a smile with my words