You dare me to, knowing in fact I've never been very daring. I stretched the meanings over the truth time after time until every white lie began to sound like a rhyme, like a song I once sang when waiting. And only in waiting had I ever sang before reason gave way to meaning.
I never pulled the line back after drawn, before the demonstration I hadn't known the boundaries were made to push. And pushing, pulling to discover there are in fact good reasons why adults keep their true statements written in ink and under wraps. There's no such thing as a "fact" if you're going by definition. And if I'm defining my own silver lining, then you're refining my needs for such luck.