No one is Contented With the Exact Truth

The truth, my darling,
no one wants to know.
They don't want to know
last night I dreamt
my children were dying,
but still I didnt want to wake up.
They don't want to know
skin sags without the fat;
to pay Paul you have to rob Peter;
pain continues after the baby is born.
They don't want to know
what is in the closet,
or under the toilet lid,
or in the back of the fridge.
They don't want to know
the reason, they just want it to
STOP.
They don't want to hear
the cacophony before the symphony.
The truth is
I killed those baby
birds so their parents
would quit shitting on my stoop.