The title is (as said before), "The Truth"
Hiding like a brown twig in
Bright leaves on the ground,
Not in sight,
Yet waiting to be found.
It may be blocked
Beyond the vines that grow
Fed by lies,
That dull its shining glow.
The greatest peril of them all
Is when it's at last uncovered.
Though it is what you were searching for,
You may not like what is discovered.
Do you like it, hate it? Why? Any way I can improve it?
If you want, look at my other poem titled "Echo":
http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index;_ylt=Aum_u71l8fUFPyYjRctRmrHsy6IX;_ylv=3?qid=20080630164136AAllJHW
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