The Day I Couldn't Lie

I woke up one day to realize
that I could not lie.
It was an experience of a lifetime;
I couldn't fib even if I tried.

I figured it out in the morning,
My Mom asked if my homework was done.
I should have lied, I would have lied,
but my answer was that I hadn't even begun.

When I got to school, I soon realized
I was only headed for trouble.
My friend sat down next to me with her artwork
and asked how it was for today's double.

I should have lied, I would have lied,
for it looked like vomit on a tiled floor.
Yet somehow I spat out those words,
and teary eyed she ran out the door.

I resorted to golden silence
it seemed to be the best solution to this curse.
But who knew that this idea
would only make things worse?

The english teacher called on me
to read the fictional poem out loud.
But it never happened, it wasn't true,
so I didn't make a sound.

'Well?' the teacher asked,
'Why aren't you reading yet?'
Twenty pairs of eyes stared at me in stillness.
I was caught in a thick net.

I took a long breath in
and to my surprise, I could not exhale.
'Are you alright?' The teacher asked.
'You look a little pale.'

I was sent home early,
My Mother picked me up.
She asked me if my unfinished homework
resulted in intentional upchuck.

This day could not get any worse.
I felt the need to cry.
I looked at her with a sunken face and replied truthfully,
'I don't lie.'