messy overthought words

9 1 0
                                    

she collects bounties for each heart she has stolen

her price raises by the second as her prisoner stares deeper 

into intricate eyes 

they become incaptivated 

lost in a web woven finely; perfectly with lies 

they lose control of their body for they are tangled 

fibers binding their wrists, ankles, torso, and head

no longer are they their own being 

yet with widened eyes jaded by love, lust, confusion 

one would think reality would overcome them 

one would ponder the idea as to how this individual let themselves be taken advantage of 

this is not the proper set of questions 

what we should be asking, what I will ask, 

why does she choose this line of work 

painting the innocent for reasons untold 

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