Aren’t we raised to believe each soul has goodness within?
Yet, some possess such darkness it’s hard to comprehend,
Roaming among us in numbers beyond our grasp,
Unconstrained by conscience, their actions unmasked.
With charm and eloquence, they ensnare our hearts,
Showering us with sweet words, playing their parts.
They’ll weave tales of sorrow that never were theirs,
Crafting an image that pulls at our cares.
Every utterance drips with deceit,
Masters of pretense, they’re skilled in the feat.
You might find yourself drawn to their hollow core,
Trusting the fabrications they eagerly score.
If they ensnare you, it’s due to your kind heart,
You are not at fault; it’s their deceptive art.
They’ve honed their craft, becoming experts in disguise,
For those yet to learn their treacherous lies.