Isn’t it conspicuous that the truth antagonises and the lie satisfies?
The facts are castigated and met with incredulity. While the fiction is inscribed in gold inside leather bound scriptures.
While the seeker of truth is met with the celerity of lead and steel,
the liars are aphorised in the same book.
Amidst the silence of the blood seeping through the mud baked floors, the deafening cries of the starving child,
the lives offered to his God on the altar of shattered glass and concrete,
amidst the muffled screams of the girl being violated, i find my bliss in ignorance.