Epiphany

He lived a life of lies.
He had woven a fabric of near truths and
falacies to people he worked with and his family,
So that nobody saw the real life he had to live.

He had met some nice people in his time,
people with nice lives and lucky niches.
He was envious of what they had,
what these people had gone through to,
build a life for themselves and their families.
He didn't realise that they had worked hard,
sacrificed so much to have their lot in life.

He blamed everyone else for his life,
never taking into account that his own actions,
and decisions led to his own life being the way it was.
He was not homeless, he lived in a house.
But he was envious of other people's stories and credits,
So to match their stories, he made up his own white lies,
to show off in others' eyes.

But his real life compared to his made up life was a far cry,
from the truth of amany eyes.
His own Epiphany, his lies were his own ticket out of
the hurt and pain he faced day in and day out.
And then his life crumbled like the walls of Jericho,
his lies he could not hold onto any more.

He sees contempt in the eyes of many,
and pity in the eyes of his ex-friends,
He feels the coldness of cold shoulders,
and dislike in the eyes of his work colleagues.
He is lost within his own lies and caught in between,
his reality and the plain cold hard factual reality.

So one day, early during his work day,
he takes from his jeans at his work desk,
a gun, shocked work colleagues watch as,
he raises the gun to his head,
and he says last sentence;
"I'm sorry. This completes my Epiphany of Lies."

As work colleagues shout and yell for him to stop,
he pulls the trigger and releases himself from the heart-ache,
and pain that was his life.
For his childhood was marked by molestation and rape,
at the hands of who he trusted with his life.
Every day, he would be verbally and mentally assaulted,
by a tyrannical figure who he still loved.

It was a sad sight at his funeral,
only a few attended, a few to pay respects to,
a young man who had promised so much,
but could not fight his inner demons.
A work colleague, a woman his age, for the next year,
came once a week to change the flowers,
bring fresh flowers a visit, and she would look at his picture,
and ask; "Why?"
If she only knew, she would maybe understand.

For the young man had battled his demons,
and the demons proved the stronger.
For the young man had not been able,
to find a niche that wanted him.

In the end he made his own peace with his maker,
and completed the Epiphany.
And the World continued to go on, with one less soul