By the one who already knows the ending
They will never question the hand that calms them, Even if the hand is stained.
Proximity, after all, is the most convincing illusion—
A whispering sound that’s sincere when it is near.
You see,
It is not truth that binds people together,
But comfort.
And comfort rarely seeks clarity.
It only seeks familiarity—
A face, a voice, a rhythm repeated enough
To feel like safety.
Even the hollowest words,
If spoken from the lips of the beloved,
Will echo with authority.
How tragic.
To place trust not in the content of speech,
But in its source.
To mistake warmth for honesty, And closeness for certainty.
But that is their nature—
A need to belong outweighs the desire to know.
And so, they listen.
And they follow.
And they believe.
Even as the ground slips beneath them.
Not because the truth eludes them,
But because the lie feels closer.
~TrueMori
