In whispered tones of crafted lies,
A tapestry of shadows weave,
Where truth in silent corners hides,
And trust begins to slowly grieve.

With every smile, a secret kept,
Behind a mask of gentle grace,
The heart’s true nature deftly slept,
In subtle turns of hidden face.

A puppet’s string pulled from the dark,
Guiding with unseen, steady hand,
While eyes that gleam with false remark,
Sculpt dreams upon the shifting sand.

Yet even through the tangled thread,
A light of truth begins to gleam,
To break the chains, the lies once fed,
And wake the soul from endless dream.