The eye-bags are only a telltale of the nights that have become days and days that refuse to become nights.
The rolling of her eyes is only a telltale of the faith that had surrendered to unbelief and the boredom boring through her mind.
The laugh that stays only on the lips is a telltale of the twisting knives in the stab of her heart.
The mean retorts are only a telltale of the insecurity that stands guard at her heart.
The oblivion she pockets you into even before she knows you, is only a telltale of the fear that engulfs her.
The lies she tells are only a telltale of lies she has been told.
The bitterness she spits is only a telltale of how much of her sweetness has been rubbished
The tears are only a telltale of her struggle against tides and storms of life.
The girl is only a telltale of the woman.
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