I will tell you a story, one that life loves to make.
It’s not long, nor interesting, nor incredibly taxing. Just a lolling, rolling of tongue wagging to fool your heart into believing that you’re protected.
The world is full of trickery and thieves, stealing sense and honesty.
I will tell you a story, it’s not grand or fierce – just a little story with such a big break.
Knowing the foolery, hoping for change, relenting the logic to sustain the heart that sizes everything, the pain all put away in a self-made cage.
Why tell me the story, I feel it everyday.
Why beg for an ending, when the thief refuses to change.
Why not start a new story, renewed with the thought that it takes more than just hoping to cast your eye over a pledge that is wrought.
No one stealing of the heart from the one who wont give. No one forcing a happy ending from the one who wont see.
Believe the new story, walk from the timid thief, who basks in the glory – mocking what he sees. Strength in the story is what should have always been; deep, deep within. Now it crumbles in preparation for the honesty within.
So I will bide. And the new stroy begins.
And the pen rises.
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