Ark of the Lost Angels

Late Night Lights _{(Credit: kfcdogcat183 on DeviantArt)}

We recorded our cover by candlelight.
It was the clearest my voice had ever been,
Perfect pitch, perfect timbre, perfect vibrato.
I did my best singing while on the verge of tears. 
But I haven’t cried in so long.

I cannot cry any more. 
I feel ready but the tears won’t come.
Begging myself to let them fall,
Whispering, “It’s okay, it’s okay,”
Inside my own head.
The way others do.
But it’s not enough.

The tears have not fallen, 
Though breath is stolen from my lungs,
And the mind runs itself in circles,
Examining every moment of the past,
Questioning my virtue in all matters.
I am capable of harm.
Did I ever do anything else?

An evil voice comes back to haunt,
A husky knife dragged along stone,
Trailing pain down my frontal lobe,
Stabbing me with new thrusts out of my memory.
An unhealthy medley of words spoken,
And ones borne from my approximation
Of the soulless one which slithered into my life,
Pressed claws into my soul
And tore me to pieces upon departure. 
The question remains in the wake of such a liar and villain,
Were they dishonest in the name of discord?
Or was their perjury a truth too disquieting to accept?

The creeping arms of the shadows cannot be dispelled,
No matter how hard I may try,
The weights of my secrets I refuse to confess stay my feet,
Despite all my wishes in the world being to waltz
Across moonlit wooden floors which creak and groan,
For they have seen a thousand liars and fools and lovers like me.