In the garden where silence lies,
A serpent weaves its cunning tale,
Wrapped in veils of silver skies,
Where trust begins to pale.

Mirrors reflect a fractured light,
Echoes dance in hollow halls,
Promises made in the dead of night,
As shadows stretch on the walls.

A smile cloaked in velvet grace,
Words that drip like honeyed dew,
Yet behind the painted face,
Lurks a heart untrue.

In the end, the fog will clear,
Revealing paths once obscured,
Truth will rise, and lies will sear,
In the light, all is cured.