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"(The Untrustworthy Speaker by Louise Gluck)Don't listen to me; my heart's been broken.I don't see anything objectively.I know myself; I've learned to hear like a psychiatrist.When I speak passionately,That's when I'm least to be trusted.It's very sad, really: all my life I've been praisedFor my intelligence, my powers of language, of insight-In the end they're wasted- In my own mind, I'm invisible: that's why I'm dangerous.People like me, who seem selfless.We're the cripples, the liars:We're the ones who should be factored outIn the interest of truth.When I'm quiet, that's when the truth emerges.A clear sky, the clouds like white fibers.Underneath, a little gray house. The azaleasRed and bright pink.If you want the truth, you have to close yourselfTo her, block her out:When I living thing is hurt like thatIn its deepest workings,All function is altered.That's why I'm not to be trusted.Because a wound to the heartIs also a wound to the mind."^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<https://www.photoblog.com/longimanus/2009/08/08/the-color-of-truth/>