Literary Lies

She won't talk, she won't rant,

She won't fight, you have to understand.

She's a woman of words, queen of the quil

the ink on her parchment speaks strongly of her will

none of her words will mean what you think

they herald a message, disguised and hidden under the ink

She laces her words with beauty and charm

when underneath them lies her ugliness and qualms

She'll tell you a story of lovers devoted

and beneath it will lie a broken tale

one, if you knew, would sound sad and stale

her fingers have grown accustomed to vent out in verse

her honest emotions lay hidden behind her well- decorated words

Her heart has become so habituated to this method so strange

that now she can't express truly, her feelings will never be explained

they hide behind that thick red wall, that hits hard against her ribs

peeking out now and then, disguised by her beautiful fibs

as she writes her newest rhyme today, she can't help but wonder

whether she'll ever let them hear her heart's own scary thunder

whether she will, in any of her works, reveal 

the truest reason for her love for happy endings, this silly zeal.

This obsession with lacing her words, to many, seem quite absurd

but it's her only way, to properly convey,
the things her heart has never heard.