Delusional Prophets

In halls of glass where whispers break,

Beneath the weight of lives they take,

They play their roles with practiced grace,

A thousand masks, not one true face.

Who can be trusted in lands so grim?

The devil wears masks and teaches to grin.

Dreamers lie buried where false love ignites,

Their souls devoured in long, endless nights.

This world, once warm, now cold and gray,

Rewards the ones who learn to play.

They wear their smiles like silken lies,

With poisoned hearts and serpent ties.

Each whispered word, a sharpened blade,

Each bond, a game of trust betrayed.

By day they charm, by night they bite,

Their truths revealed in pale moonlight.

Behind the saint, a demon feeds,

On hope and light and quiet needs.

He watches graves they leave behind,

A trail of hearts, all bled and blind.

Masks may smile, but eyes betray,

What hunger hides beneath their sway.

In games like these, all hearts are weighed,

And monsters wear the skin they flayed.