Charm, what a powerful mean of harm,
So easy and foolish it is to disarm.
But is this the real face of the truth?
Truth, horrid word emerged from world’s root.
And how can the real be judged now as well,
When all that we are should go straight to hell?
To follow one’s instincts is terrible sin,
Guided by the lust that’s build within.
Who am I? I wonder sometimes and I frown.
A scared stupid shadow that refused going on,
Poisonous ivy to yell all the bad,
A rude vicious killer to slaughter like mad,
A fake hope of love of pace and of joy?
Or maybe just no-one, a puppet, a toy.
Duplicity strikes me, when I look in reflection
The scared one hides afraid of correction,
The vain and the evil grins having a wine
The powerful bitch awaits for a sign.
There’s nothing of truth in this ravishing tale,
I wake up, I’m sweated and nauseous and pale.
