It reflects every other color
Black can not comprehend, she rejects her and flee
When forcefully mixed with another, will it remain?
Such a vesture she is
The color of truth is white
Men hate to wear upon them, for it reveals the dirt
When they do, they hide it beneath the dark
Choking it with a rope
Stained, if washed with others
To fade by and by
The color of truth is white
She stands and works alone
Yet! Not sweet to the taste, nor pleasant to the ears
She needs no explaining
When vexed sore in your hiding, she burst open like a new wine in an old vessel
Hide her not, she can’t be hidden.
The color of truth is still white
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