It’s what I tell myself to get by, my favorite lie
And one I never use but on myself

If said with a sigh, it’s likely I’ll cry
So I smile and draw a cross upon my chest

There may be a time, I hid more in rhyme
But now there’s really only one left

If put in a book, I know you would look
So I hid the only one on my shelf

© Delia Ross. 2019