In the silent dance of whispered words,
Lies craft their artful guise,
Threads of truth twisted and curled,
Beneath a veil of painted skies.

Eyes that see but choose the blind,
Hearts ensnared by sweet deceit,
A puppet’s play within the mind,
Where shadows and reality meet.

The mirror cracks with each facade,
Reflections blurred and torn,
Yet still they weave their dark charade,
In the quiet hours before the morn.

But light will pierce the thickest shroud,
Revealing all that’s been concealed,
For even in the darkest cloud,
The truth will one day be revealed.