Fabricator

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: May 27, 2016

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Submitted: May 27, 2016

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My lips move

And you assume you fall out of them.

High on your horse.

You feel superior than us all.

Smile on your face

But your black eyes tell the truth.

You use religion to shield the real you.

You don’t want people to see

The monster that you are.

Seduce the weak

And crush the ones who see your flaws.

You massacre the truth

And mold it so that no one notices.

You can hide it very well.

The lies spill out your mouth.

Like acid, you burn.

The minds and heart that hold you close

Are infected with your poison.

You’re a disease.

Seeping your way into people

And destroying them inside and out.

But soon enough you’ll bury yourself

Underneath your thousand lies.

You’ll decay alone.

The Con artist who lost her game.

 


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