The tower of deception

The tower of deception

The tower stood above the town,
where sunlight never stayed,
its windows watched the people pass,
its rooms were filled with shade.

It had no bells to mark the time,
no welcome at its door,
just footsteps climbing through the night,
then heard again no more.

Its bricks were made of broken trust,
its roof of stolen dreams,
its walls were thick with whispered lies
and muffled, frightened screams.

A man once entered dressed in gold,
with kindness in his eyes,
but every word that left his mouth
was wrapped in sweet disguise.

He promised love would never hurt,
he promised he would stay,
then built another secret room
and locked the truth away.

The woman who believed his heart
grew colder every year,
she lived beneath his shadowed words
and wore his cloak of fear.

She searched the tower late one night,
and found behind a wall
the names of those he had betrayed,
their pictures in the hall.

Their tears were kept in bottles there,
their voices sealed in stone,
and suddenly she understood
she had not stood alone.

She climbed until she reached the roof,
with fury in her chest,
and threw his golden promises
into the crow’s dark nest.

The tower groaned beneath her feet,
the windows cracked with pain,
the truth came pouring through the walls
like black and bitter rain.

The man in gold began to beg,
his crown fell to the floor,
but every lie he ever told
came knocking at the door.

The tower leaned towards the earth,
its secrets broke the ground,
and all the voices it had trapped
became a mighty sound.

By morning nothing stood above
the town it once controlled,
just shattered bricks and splintered doors
and promises grown cold.

She walked away beneath the sun,
no longer bound by fear,
while every stone behind her cried
the truth for all to hear.

For towers built of treachery
may touch the highest skies,
but even stone will turn to dust
when truth awakens lies.