Propensity To Lie
To say that the average human being’s propensity to lie
Is greater than their biological urge to reproduce
Would be
A gross understatement
For it has always been the vast amount of lies told by oneself
that is the common denominator in almost all people
At the highest frequency
At the highest resonance
Across all time
More lies than breathes, more lies than times shit or pissed
More lies than times one looked or heard or smelled or touched or tasted or blinked
More lies than all of that
And it started before they were born
Bleeding into the womb
Like a gene
A malignant gift
Perniciously
Becoming a habit
Until it it becomes nature
Mother and father lie to each other
Make a child
Only to then lie to him or her
Then the child begins to lie to their sisters and brothers
Then again to their father, then again to their mother
Now they begin to lie to others
Now all the others lie to each other
Grow old and have new children to lie to
Only to repeat the cycle
All the while
Keeping a unifying constant
An unbreakable constant
Of lying to themselves
Even if there is a lapse
In their lies to others
They will always lie
To themselves
But what even is a lie?
Can it be said that it is simply a mere creation?
For a lie is something made up that was not previously there before
Any other creation is similar in that regards it seems
But is it simply a negative creation then As it contains not truth
A hollow creation
An empty palace
A failure?
A malfunction?
For maybe in actuality
Man’s drive to create
Is greater than the drive to lie or even reproduce
And maybe it is just a failure in creating properly
For I have never seen a great man
Who had created truly great things
Great works
Great art
A great character
A great life
Lie often
But I have seen
All those who failed to create anything great
Anything worthwhile
Anything at all
Or even create themselves
Be the ones
To lie most often
Thus
Maybe
In their failure to create for the world
They lie to the world
Maybe
In their failure to create themselves and for themselves
They lie to themselves
Leaving behind a wretched box
Filled to brim with poison as
Their sole creation
Their sole purpose
Their only work