Television

[Here's a really random rhyme scheme for you. I kind of like it though. Maybe I'll bring it back someplace else.]

The television's talking out
like chatty neighbors down the street,
busy with their fragile cause of
turning whispers into shouts:
words can kill
like blood can spill.

The stacks in piles miles high
of silly, silly, useless sounds
just slam together empty words--
Society, the critics sigh.
To them, a secret little known:
The lies you see are each your own.

With all the letters painted black
we still don't know what we can trust,
since truth can hide beneath the type
next to the change we can't take back.
So what remains as seconds fly?
Here lies the truth: the truth can lie.