As letters weave words, and words, conceive into promises of conversation, We tend to fill it with classy shards Born out of crafty emotional exclamations.
Exclaiming and shouting out your sole adherence “to do…” whatever it may ask you of your devoted word. Torn, broken, kept and shattered, Promises of tomorrow that weep for the ones of today.
Yet, something that consoled as a calming sooth Was nothing but a disguised shade of truth. It is named ‘a promise’; and is by far a piss! Some tend to keep it and some make A habit of breaking it, with a treacherous dare.
But here we are found again, looking forward just so another promise would suffice, like a coward.
Surely any journey setting its rocks on such A malice, like promise is audacious much in its kind. Though we end up cheating ourselves into believing and caring Until we meet another promise that is worth leaning on.
Alas! A broken promise that once consoled as a calming sooth Was nothing but a disguised shade of ‘brute’!!