These string of lies you gathered for me,
A pearl noose beguiled around my neck.
That garden path you lead me down,
A shadow, you followed, a danger, your dialect.
Creeping into veins, Spooking into ears,
The epitome of you violently shaking the temple of my fears.
Inside are mosaics of heck ridden fragments from desires,
It was the light bulb of ideas melting the mind into bends that sparked this fire.
© Thelma Von Salem @ https://thelmavonsalem.com
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