Why?

Truth steps up and
Taps me on the shoulder.
I whip around and ask,
"Why me?"
Truth opens her mouth and I cower.
Her veiled face--
A filmy, mummy-like gauze--
Does not completely hide her moonlit profile.
Scars crisscross her bony cheeks.
Her lips are cut, raw and bleeding.
She points with a bone-white finger
And says in a hiss of a whisper,
"Why not?"
A dry, dusty snicker escapes its mouth.
I cover my ears and fall to the ground.
I realize this is more then I can handle.
I wish she had never come to me
Because I have felt her pain before and it is more than I can bear.
Truth is a bitch.

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