*****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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