In shallow halls where shadows stretch and play,

False tongues may craft their brittle, fleeting thrones.

Their words like embers scattered on the wind,

Ignite but briefly, never taking root.

The liar builds on sand, a fragile keep,

Its walls eroded by the tides of time.

What harm they hurl may sting but will not stand;

Truth, steadfast as the sun, will find its way.

Though clouds obscure the light and blur the sky,

The dawn remains, relentless, ever sure.

Each slander, like a tempest, clears the air,

Revealing hearts unyielding to deceit.

For lies, though loud, are feeble in their core,

While honesty endures the weight of years.

In every trial, a lesson softly blooms—

Resilience, like oak roots, deeply grown.

So, fear not words that seek to chain your soul;

The bonds they weave dissolve in time’s great flood.

Through storms of falsehood, hold your head aloft,

For truth will shine, unbroken by the dark.