How can truth survive When smothered by pride And stained by false pasts. My truth is fragmented And stained by the the pride of others. Truth is a key. The key to understanding. I lay on a grass field that once held a park Now it holds the barren memory. Before the park there was something And something before that. The truth of the land, its history Has always been yet it is still unknown. I seek to learn that history To find the truth buried by time. Once I find that truth I can rest. Once I find my truth I can rest. I belong in a place where my truth is true. Where my history is clear. Truth is what pushes me forward, The pursuit of this truth is what guides me. I belong where this guide takes me.