The echoes of those lies...
The stories that I told myself to ease the lonely ache now haunt my waking moments, the promises they break. β’The phantom comfort, woven in the night, Now claws at dawn, and steals away the light. β’I built a fortress, from illusions spun, But shadows creep, and battles are begun. β’Each whispered 'maybe,' each imagined grace, Returns a specter, in this empty space. β’The echoes of those lies, a constant, chilling sound, Where solace once resided, now only wounds are found. β’The painted smiles, the words I longed to hear, Now twist and mock me, fueled by rising fear. β’My heart, a stage where fantasies once played, Now holds a theater, where truths are re-betrayed. β’The warmth I sought, within my crafted dream, Has turned to frost, a cold and bitter gleam.
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