I lied to your face today, well, not
your face - someone else's.
I lied because you were in the room, and my answer was for you -
not them.
My answers are always for you.
I lied because I did not want you to know I had broken my
promise.
I lied because I did not want you to cry again, and I was
unsure of
how you would react this time - the third time.
Would you be sad? Would you cry like the first time I had told
the truth,
in the dark of my bedroom? And would you beg for me not to
do it again, beg for me to promise?
Or would you reprimand me, like you had the second time? Will you
tut and sigh and act like
my existence is this great burden and you are tired of my
weight?
I lied because I do not want there to be a third time,
and I lied because I do not want to be judged.
I say I lied for you, but mostly I lied for myself.
