The poem
Go tell them your story, make me look insane,
Leave out every detail where you caused the pain.
Polish your halo, rehearse every lie,
Then act like the victim and wonder why.
Forget all the shouting, the games and the spin,
Forget all the ways that you wore patience thin.
Just mention my anger, ignore what came first-
That trick always works
when your conscience is cursed.
But truth has a habit of crawling back through,
No matter how pretty the bullshit from you.
So tell them your version,
make fiction your friend-
The truth doesn't panic. It waits for the end.
The design
Comfort Colors® 1717, with the Typewriter Manuscript design printed on the front.