A chronicle of lies you spoke to me the night love destroyed your sanity and rage filled your heart. Is there no way for you to feel a way to find yourself upon shattered glass broken in undecipherable pieces that lay themselves so sweetly upon the floor beside your bed a shadow ness taken far between two obsolete worlds where words sting like a paper cut so thin it irritates the rage within you and stirs the senses blinding you from all reason SANITY is less portrayed with your eyes of changing colors those that fill themselves with tears that will not fall IN AND OUT the confusion quickly comes and never seems so capable as to leave as strikingly as it came a ill preformed passion? No an unlovable unjust under minded twisted sort of pleasure comes from it will we ever know? No condemnation into the fiery pits of death you called it heaven and the rest of the world called it a hell that breaths and lives within your very body. But as the old cliché goes and finds its way describing the very core of you…. HELL HATH NO FURY AS A WOMAN SCORNED.

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