"Silver Tongue, Lead Heart"

In the realm of shadows, where secrets lie,

There dwells a figure with a piercing eye.

A silver tongue dances upon their lips,

But deep within, a leaden heart grips.

Words, like silver threads, deftly weave,

Crafting tales of longing and deceit.

Each syllable, a carefully placed dart,

A facade of charm to mask the leaden heart.

With eloquence, they paint a wondrous scene,

Yet darkness lingers, obscured and unseen.

Their words, a mask, a shield against the pain,

A fragile armor, the heart's silent strain.

But oh, the burden that the heart must bear,

Heavy as the weight of a thousand cares.

Beneath the glimmering facade, they create,

A heart made of lead, longing to abate.

With every verse, a bittersweet lament,

A melody of longing, of discontent.

The silver tongue weaves tales of love and woe,

Yet the leaden heart yearns for solace to bestow.

For in the depths of their poetic soul,

A desire for redemption takes its toll.

To reconcile the dissonance they feel,

To let the leaden heart be seen and healed.

So, let us see beyond the silver tongue's guise,

To the leaden heart that yearns to rise.

For in embracing the truth that lies within,

A poet's journey toward healing may begin.

"Silver Tongue, Lead Heart," a paradox untold,

A poet's struggle, a story to unfold.

May the words they craft bring solace and release,

As they navigate the realms of pain and peace.