In the quiet corners where shadows play,
Lies are spun with silken threads of night.
Deception dances in the dimming light,
Whispers of truth hidden far away.

Masks worn with a practiced grace,
Smiles that never reach the eyes.
In the mirror, reflections disguise,
Secrets buried in a tender embrace.

Promises made under the moon’s glow,
Words like petals, soft yet untrue.
Beneath the surface, intentions skew,
A garden where only thorns grow.

When morning breaks, illusions fade,
The veil of deceit slowly lifts.
What remains are fragile rifts,
In the heart where truth should have stayed.