Honesty Poetry นิยาย & เรื่องราว

adding that this would be in her best interest. I waited for him to elaborate, but he gave the impression that what he had already said was sufficient. "Is this what you do to make people pay you?" I inquired, raising the volume of my voice. "How does being honest contribute to the management of a crisis?" Andrew responded, unruffled by the remark, that "sometimes it's the best answer." "Most people appreciate honesty. Even if they don't agree with it, it seems natural to them when they hear it. If you want to trick people into believing a falsehood, you have to cover up the sour taste with enough sugar to fool them. The truth is always more palatable than lies.

"All I did was speak the truth. Am I not allowed to do even that? Did she really lose this job just because I said things as they are?" Dad fired back mercilessly. "Speak the truth? Those weren't matters of principle—you just deliberately blew them up into character flaws! All you wanted was to parade your so-called honesty. But are you really an honest person? "What about all your own shady shit? Why don't you ever tell anyone about that? Yet, when it comes to your own daughter's private matters, you can't wait to broadcast them to the world under the banner of 'honesty'. At the end of the day, you're just mean-spirited."

Her eyes had curved into little crescents, her mouth full of smugness, and I said: "When you say that, it really hurts Mommy." She only said proudly, "The Moon Goddess says honesty is a wolf's finest virtue. Good children don't lie." I didn't know how to argue with that, and it left me uneasy. Logically, a child should feel attached to the elders who raised her so carefully, should instinctively take her mother's side, but Lyra was different. Over summer break, I took her to the International Junior Wolf Games. Others looked at the two of us and sneered. "That girl was the last one picked for the team, and she barely scraped through the fitness test. If another girl hadn't come down with a s

“He’ll deny it, of course. Loudly and desperately, but the thing about this kind of situation is that every word will make him look even more guilty.” Edrick laughed… that dry, cynical sound of his. “You’re good. You make poison sound like poetry.” “Poetry moves people,” I said. “Poison just finishes the job.” He crossed his arms. “And what happens when the truth manages to find its way out? When someone looks closely and figures out the forgeries?” I met his gaze steadily. “By then, no one will care. Once a lie tastes better than the truth, no one will hurriedly spit it out.”

The scent of rain, cold air, and his familiar cedarwood cologne drifted over her, triggering a dizzying flash of a memory: a crowded library basement at 2 AM, sharing a single pair of headphones, and the warmth of his breath against her neck as he explained a complex calculus theorem. "That guy realized that 'meaning' doesn't pay the bills or keep the rain out, Clara," he said softly, his voice dropping into a register that made her breath hitch. "And 'honesty' in shadows doesn't keep people safe. I grew up. I learned that the world expects results, not poems. You should try it sometime. It’s a lot more stable."

“It won’t kill anyone. But it will show you how easily those around you can be undone by their own lies.” His eyes found mine. “Especially his lies.” “You know what this means, right?” For a long moment, I couldn’t speak. “You’re asking me to drug them.” “I’m asking you to open your eyes.” His tone was calm, almost patient. “You keep clinging to the idea that you owe them honesty, that if you’re just good enough, loyal enough, they’ll see your worth. But they won’t. Sometimes, the only way to see the truth is to force it out.”

Instead, I would be a positive force—a warrior with the sword of truth to battle the darkness directly. As I allowed myself to rest at last, I made one final entry on my recorder: "The price of truth is steep, and tonight we paid dearly. But each wound, each moment of fear, is a badge of honor for the strength of secrets that must be told. I will not fail. I will tell all the lies, and the truth will be known.”

I held his gaze, a spark of defiance flickering in my eyes, and replied, "True victory is not achieved through deceit and treachery. In the end, it is a hollow triumph, as emptiness shadows every step you take." The words hung in the air, a testament to the resilience of truth and integrity. It was a quiet defiance, a gentle reminder that true success could never be usurped by those unwilling to abide by the principles of fairness, honesty, and loyalty. With that, I turned my back on Herodotus, leaving him to dwell in the consequences of his actions.

I didn't want to answer, but it clicked to me that maybe, if a conversation were to lighten the mood, I‘d be out of here sooner. I swallowed, not sure where he was going with this or what he wanted to hear. “Well, I… I suppose if it was really betrayal,” I said slowly, “I’d confront them. Ask them to be honest with me.” “Honesty,” he muttered, as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. He let out a dark, humorless laugh. “Funny thing about honesty is that sometimes, it’s a lot easier to believe a lie.“

It’s almost pretty. “I don’t enjoy the pain, Vorlag,” I say, my voice perfectly level. “I respect it. Pain is the only thing that is honest. It tells you that you’re alive. It tells you what’s real.” I drop the bloody handkerchief onto the table, right in front of him. “And in a room full of liars and cowards,” I say, looking at each of them in turn, “I find honesty to be a refreshing change of pace.” I button my coat, managing not to hiss as it presses on my broken rib.