In the whispers of the night, they spin,
Threads of illusion, where lies begin.
A gentle touch, a soft-spoken word,
In silence, their power is heard.

With eyes that glint like shards of glass,
They mask the truth, let shadows pass.
A smile that cloaks intentions deep,
Innocence feigned, secrets they keep.

Their hands weave webs, both fine and thin,
Drawing you closer, pulling you in.
A dance of words, a crafted play,
Where honesty is led astray.

Yet in the light, their stories fade,
The veils are lifted, truth displayed.
In the echoes of their broken song,
We find the strength to move along.