The Boy and the Lie (for young readers)

There once was a boy who wore a lie
Like a mask he held up high.
He’d tell untruths and for a while
They’d hide his face, they’d make him smile.

“I’ll tell a lie,” he’d say, “and then
For just one moment, it might bend
The truth I’m too afraid to speak—
The truth I hide for every week.”

He knew his lies were thin and weak,
That others saw right through his sneak.
But as long as they would stop their chase,
He was satisfied to hide his face.

The boy was scared—he had no guts
To open up his hidden cuts.
He knew the truth would hurt to tell,
So in his lies he chose to dwell.

But here’s the lie he told himself:
“They buy my story from the shelf.”
He didn’t see their silent stare
Meant, “We know you’re not being fair,
But we respect that you won’t share.”

He didn’t want to speak his fears,
The challenges he’d carried years.
He had no courage just to be
The person he was meant to be.

Society said, “Do this, do that,
And you’ll be happy, you’ll be fat
With all the things that make life great.”
So he pretended not to hate
The path they chose to set as fate.

But lies don’t grow you—that’s the truth.
They keep you stuck inside your booth.
At first they help, they get you by,
But soon they make you want to cry.
You say you’ve won, you say you’ve grown,
But really you are all alone.

He feared to fail—oh how he feared!
And so his failure reappeared.
Fear felt like something he should hold,
Like armour made of foolish gold.

Time stood still, but still he grew
In years, but not in what he knew.
He saw the others pass him by—
They reached their dreams, they touched the sky.
He told himself, “I don’t want that,”
But that was just another pat
On his own back for staying small—
Another lie, another wall.

He looks at them, then looks at him—
The mirror shows a face grown dim.
He doesn’t see their faces there,
But his own face is hard to bear.
He stares and stares but can’t connect
With who he sees—it’s not correct.
He doesn’t know the boy who stares,
So he looks away, pretends he cares.

He wonders if there is a way
To start again, to kneel and pray,
To kill the lie that grew so deep,
The seed that would not let him sleep.

For everything that grows and thrives
Has someone working—someone drives
The dream, the hope, the daily grind.
And in that truth, he starts to find
That he’s a part of this same game,
But lied that he was not the same.

I want to grow, the boy now cries,
I want another chance—a prize
Of forgiveness for my backward ways,
For all my lost and wasted days.
I tried to do it my own way,
To see if I could make it pay
Without the work, without the strain,
Without the effort, without the pain.

But even kings upon their thrones,
With all their jewels, with all their tones,
Had something that they had to do—
A truth that cuts me right in two.

The things he thought were lies before
Were truths he wouldn’t see—and more,
He wonders why the world can’t see
That he just wants to simply be.
To be himself, to laugh, to live,
Without a thing he has to give.

It’s not that there is no reply—
The answer’s there, up in the sky.
He just won’t take it, won’t accept
The truth he’s kept and kept and kept.

So where does that leave him today?
Why should he feel ashamed to say
The thoughts that fill his head with wonder,
While those who judge just pull him under?

He’s not a bad kid—no, not him.
Perhaps a little lazy, dim.
But mostly just a boy who hates
To live the way they say is great.

He’s just a kid who wants to be—
Simply, purely, truly free.

The Lesson

The boy is learning day by day
That lies will never find a way
To make you grow or make you strong—
They keep you where you don’t belong.

The truth is hard, the truth is tough,
But truth is also strong enough
To set you free, to help you stand,
To take your life into your hand.

So if you know this boy at all—
If you have stared against that wall—
Remember this: it’s not too late
To choose the truth and change your fate.