The weaver of deceit, the teller of lies.
Its presence is hidden, but it darkens the skies.
There's no help to be sought, no one to be told
About the evil of a creature anciently old.
No one will believe you, to them it's absurd.
Your rantings won't be tolerated, your lies won't be heard.
Except they're not lies, are they? It tells you they're not.
No, It's really there, there's no fight to be fought.
But ridding of it would be awfully hard.
Now that it's got you it's grip won't be jarred.
It taunts and it torments and never subsides.
Dreadful are the laws by which it abides.
It makes you see darkness through eyes not your own.
Two beings in one; you're never alone.
~Angie Richer
