Shadow

Pity aphorisms that serve only to haunt. Echoes of biting monologues - fuelled by fossilised rage - that ran on loop. Dark cannot sustain the meekest light, so she sermonised. And old sins cast long shadows, she so effectively weaponised. 

Worn script common in every way, played out in every possible guise. Our morbidity not granted some reprieve in novelty; sardonic humour of a Machiavellian eros pulling strings on the swathes of ill fated. Redemption: rarefied construct reserved strictly for the feted.

In vacuum that remains, truth and fiction inseparable; objective fact as abstruse as time. Parallel narratives; only alignment temporal. True tragedy: despite true hearts intention - never the twain shall meet...