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Amada Paul Israel@israelamadapaul172464
2 months ago
Sweet deceit, thou art a siren's call,
With false sincerity, thou dost enthrall.
Thy honeyed words, like nectar sweet,
Do mask the snares beneath thy feet.
In tender tones, thy promises flow,
Provoking trust where none should grow.
Oft doth the pious heart believe,
In thee, and thus itself deceive.
For in thy gaze, a gentle light,
Doth hide the shadow of the night.
Thy touch, a velvet glove so kind,
Conceals the dagger hid behind.
With smiles so fair, thou dost entice,
And cloak thy heart in virtue's guise.
Thy vows, like whispers in the breeze,
Do beguile the soul with ease.
"Trust me," thou say'st, with fervent plea,
"Forever true, I'll be to thee."
Yet beneath this mask, deceit doth lurk,
To rend and tear with secret work.
Thy tender promises, so fair,
Do lead the heart into despair.
For in thy wake, the pious find,
A barren wasteland of the mind.
Once, faith did flourish in the soul,
A garden fair, a perfect whole.
But thou, with subtle, creeping blight,
Hast turned this Eden into night.
The trust once placed in love's embrace,
Now shattered lies, a broken vase.
Thus, sweet deceit, thou hast thy way,
To make the heart's bright light decay.
For in the guise of love's pure glow,
Thou plant'st the seeds of deepest woe.
And pious favor, once so bright,
Is stung by thee, and lost to night.
The disillusioned heart now weeps,
And in the shadows, silence keeps.
No more it sings of love's sweet dream,
For all is now as it doth seem.
The faith in love, a distant star,
Eclipsed by who we truly are.
Yet, in this tale of woe and grief,
A glimmer shines, a hope, relief.
For love itself is not to blame,
Nor can it bear deceit's foul name.
'Tis not love's essence that doth harm,
But those who wield it with false charm.
Love, in its truest form, is pure,
A balm for wounds, a gentle cure.
It's we, the people, who do mar,
The light of love, and make it scar.
Our hearts, with shadows intertwined,
Do twist and taint love's grand design.
So let us learn, and clearer see,
That love's not harmful, but sets free.
It's we who bear the darker art,
And weave deceit within the heart.
To love, then, let us true remain,
And cleanse our hearts of falsehood's stain.
For in the end, when shadows part,
Love stands alone, a noble heart.
Its essence pure, untainted, bright,
A beacon in the darkest night.
'Tis we who fail, not love's sweet grace,
That brings us to this woeful place.
So let us strive, with heart and mind,
To be more true, more just, more kind.
For love, when pure, can heal, restore,
And lead us to a brighter shore.
In love, let truth and honor blend,
And thus, our wounds begin to mend.
