with venomous tongue poisons innocents.
Silence unveils wickedness portraying beauty, trickster among angels
fallen in the dead of the night.
No longer matters, words drift to the deaf amused by others in paths
that some are not welcome.
But to whom to turn to if not the beautiful who lie, cheat, and steal
the very breath escaping crimson lips?
Empty promises carved deep, intended to scar forever veiled in despair
draped so cold as unfeeling.
Death awaits with a lonely empty tomb sized for one, the afterlife poses
just as reality has for years past.
No one waits as no one cares, unwilling to grasp hands acting as savior
when all is lost in darkness.
Cruelty at its finest, lurking in shadows much too long for normality
though even the wicked know this truth.
Avoidance to break beyond repair as hand turns boney and white,
cold and desolate; alone.