You thought you were <br />The master of disguise, <br />Hiding everything about yourself <br />As you wove your web of deceit. <br />You use mystery as your blanket <br />And rest your head <br />On a pillow of lies. <br />Although your eyes may become moist <br />Under the threat of falling tears, <br />This is just another tactic <br />You use for the ultimate effect. <br />King Midas had the touch of gold <br />But your eye's, your heart, <br />Are frozen, cold. <br />For things you want you strive to keep <br />Until no longer useful.<br /><br />Irina Whitford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dreamweaver-2/
