Deceit wears a Janus face;
its self veiled in angelic façade
whose fixed smile
is magnetized mesmerism;
unhappiness breeds contempt
teasing innocence
into its woven web of misery;
morality, not favored nor desired,
decayed in the cocooned cell
created in the web’s confining labyrinth;
compassion, a stranger of instinct,
has failed to be learned; suffering relieved
only by that of others. What greater healing
than injecting such on those once loved?
Bereft of reasoning, misery seeks misery
and forgiveness remains an elusive discovery;
tears, an unemotional exhaust of afterthought;
leaving a dry mirroring sheen—Cracked.
Washed and drained in morning showers.
How long before the reservoir of grief
runs dry;
and the cistern of love overflows?
Pray tell…How long?