To the tune of your hypocrisy she lay awake and debate this life that she had grown so accustom to. A mere glimpse of this plague that you call “truth”, buried deep within your bones, alone, gentle mercy muse. But beg no more for the fate you’d hope for, vacant; she is not here. Even a childish girl would see through these words, weeping from the vile that spews from your mouth; lies. To play on a heart in which strings are frayed, a game in which both sides are doomed. From what is right and what is wrong, a choice you must make; choose or loose.