tell this lie

The tenebrous web is woven,
tell the lies that you've chosen
and run away into this night no more
whatever is there to say in a whisper that cannot be shouted from here?
becoming a martyr for loss is like buying your own tombstone
an empty womb-stone
a very shadowy feeling that tells you've really messed up
nevertheless in all the disteresses it only seems fair to perish
you can't untell a tale.