You lied to me
And in a way of external beauty
You covered your lie in ink.
I ache at your pain, because it winds down your willingness.
This fight on the way is more than just play swords and light tricks.
And you have my hidden truth to plaster across a breaking wall.
What is better, a wall with no truth, or no wall and no reason to publish?
The writen word is far more flexible than what they thought before they started telling me I could do some thing with this and now they can't figure out what it is that needs to be done with all these tiny bits and pieces:
Bits are left...
To gather and grow into one masive
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