A face plastered with a mask
Pleading to be seen as a penetrable facade
Naive hands reach in to seek attention
But all that they meet is a delegate, faking friendship
It whispers others’ twisted secrets
Promising that if you share yours, they will keep them
It hands me a paper heart, a counterfeit of its own
Swearing that if I give it mine, I’ll never be alone
The eyes project a hint of sly
One that words were not able to hide
It weaves another slither of lies
And that was when I began to realise
It was grasping for my trust
Hoping to make me vulnerable
But this time it hushed when I began to look uncomfortable
Its expression is solemn but its touch is cold
It reveals to me that I am worth more than gold
I confess my suspicion, that they, themselves, are not sincere
And never again did my “friend” appear
trapped in script 