b'The TruthI can only ever tell the truth in the dark.Honesty is far too crude for sunlight.People hound me with questions in the day.I cannot answer them.Perched on the edge of conversationWords hang unspoken.Like wet mould in my mouth.At night, my mother stumbles into my roomSearching for who I really am,In a half dream I murmur to herThe truth.Emotions pull and ripple at her face,But I cannot see them.For a moment, the moon stares at me.Ive probably said too much.Amy Cahill8'