HYPOCRISY
Colourful to the eyes,
The breeze that cooled the burning hearts,
Refreshed souls like the early morning dew,
An epitome of what they called love,
The angelical mission that ought to have forever lasted,
Loved but hated by a few.
The storm washed through her desert,
And the loose morals swept from their hearts,
Her words stood like an island,
Because somebody believed her not,
She portrayed the mirror,
Reflecting her pretence on their innocent faces,
She has nowhere to hide her face,
The world is behind her,
Armed to do away with her savage heart,
Her sheep's clothing torn,
She's the wolf that ate our sheep.
*_iamlegrande_*
©amlegrande
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