If I am Honest, He is the Truth

 If I'm being honest, I'm not really myself, 

If I'm handing out truths, I might be someone else. 

I'm stuck in my head with what feels like a dream.

A river in negative, seeping slimy dark streams.

If I'm being honest, the room would then dim.

The light I shine, would be forgotten within.

I'd blast us further and further into a pit of despair.

Oh, what pain shall we find there? 

If I'm being honest, I hate being honest.

It always ends as some honor test.

If I were truthful, I'd name myself difficult and selfish.

Never the one who chooses first, always the last pick.

But where do I go, if I've named myself so?

If I let the names of false whisperers consume me below.

HE says no.

That He knows me so.

For Him, I'll do whatever it takes to be cured.

To show Him, that line He put, isn't blurred.

That I'm compassionate, trustworthy, and can't be deterred.

So when they ask me for the Truth, unguarded.

I'll say it with God at my side, uncovered.

If I am honest, I just want to glow.

To be loved and known.

And I am as so.