The Cronicle.

They wont hear our story. The sound of our tears. But they read the pages i wrote over the years. So assume you felt my silent feelings. That i felt when i wrote. That it was your wrist you were concealing because no one should know. Pretend you know how it was. The story, The kisses, && all the lies. Actually take a pause. Im sick of your tale. && its you I despise. It time for a break. For you and I. So the truth I awake. Tell me now, Tell me why. because they think they know the chronicle. But i think they're wrong. Now come on lets try and be logical. Your the only one who knew the whole time.