You paint the words like magic
On a shining silver screen
A marriage of convenience
To the lies you'd have us dream
Polish your words 'til they shine so bright
That they sparkle like the stars
Reflecting them 'til they blind our eyes
And twist our trusting hearts
You scare us with your stories
Tell the truth, but make it false
And you dance there with the devil
When the palest moonlight falls
What is truth? For none of us know
We trusted you, traitor of the truth
You twist our minds 'til we all are slow
While we dance in your entrancing glow
Yes, we believe you, Silvertongue,
There's not much else that can be done;
For if you a word we speak against,
We stand accused of decadence.
YOU ARE READING
The Art of Confusion
PoetryDiana Miller is schizophrenic...or at least she thinks so. She has never been clinically diagnosed because her father believes that mental illness is demon possession, and she knows he would never take her to a psychiatrist. To cope with her inner c...
