Off With Her Head!

The deepest sobs are always the ones that don't make any noise. It's about time this prophecy was uncovered. We delved deep within historic lies to figure out the mystery. But of course, all in due time. No short term tale is always understood in immediate hours. Rather, in deep thoughts that only come in those rare, yet opportune moments. Those little windows where memories are key and epiphanies are often realized. Some may be photographs, others just a voice. But we all accept redemption when it shows it's face, sometimes a demon, sometimes an angel, cloaked in white robes. What was had was never mistaken, it was simply taken off the shelf, collecting dust as time flew by. Everyone knew it would never drown, no matter how many pieces there may have been to pick up. But this? It's temporarily shrouded in a dark cloak of secrecy, waiting for someone to possibly distort the image further. A blurred face on a television screen would be a correct comparison. Hand written poetry by the flourescent glow is all I have left to offer. My heart's been stolen, but my soul will never be taken alive. Dispite the truth of the matter, the scars may never begin to take shape. And as the lead runs out on this dulled pencil, I understand what was told. Materials can be thrown away, family can't. The depths of this darkness whisper, shadows still in the distance. And hearts never seem to lie, it's only the mind's foolish nature. You may not want to believe it's for you, but oh, how wrong you may be. And perhaps it's not. But the victim is not far from reach. Trust me, dear friend. The deprivation in your eyes is more than enough to show I'm not alone. The lines may temporarily be down, but they will rise again. For I know you. This may be what it is to burn, or perhaps it's just turning your cheek. But one thing is undeniable: Promises are meant to be broken.