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*****BLACKMAIL****

           


  *****BLACKMAIL****

Her voice as soft as the orchard vegetation,
The splendor from her lips snatches the soul
At every corners she's seen she deceive
Like an innocent serpent she takes and never returns.

Oh! You my lover has the stuckholm syndrome
To which Love itself is the captivity that lovers choose
And this is what sustains you


Everyday she cries that he's the one
Deceiving and taking from him who falls prey to her plights

Alas! Maybe I'd be you
That I'll choose you over them
Your hostages keep giving and gets nothing in return

By amassing their into captivity
You've gain power and glamour
Which is debauchery and treacherous

You take from them life and happiness
By deceptive tones of falseness
Now they are stuck and taken you as their fortress

While the lighthouse is not far 
But you have blinded their hearts
With your sweet but venomous tones.

    ™© Brown
Proff, Pharmacist and Poet.

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