The Perfidious Pen

Perfidious he calls it,

The twining of my words,

Like I am a snake in the grass,

Preying on hapless birds,

 

Beware of my pen, my page,

If it is your reflection that you fear,

I can tell the truth with pretty lies,

That will dry those secret tears,

 

Perfidious he says,

Like he knows what it means,

To speak your mind fully,

Without selling out your dreams,

 

As if he has stalked through his mind,

For the words to disguise,

The unwritten tortures,

Behind his eyes,

 

Perfidious, he claims,

Like he knows where I hid my knife,

Under all of the poetry,

From a fractured life.

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