The Illusionist
He is the illusionist
The captivator of conquered dreams
Stolen hopes and pinning hearts.

His artistry lies in painting
Picture perfect imageries of
Long lost castles and royal ties

He joins the masquerade at night
Concealing every step he takes
with stealth and craftiness
He disguises his facade with a mask

In his flowing long dark cloak
He alights his carriage in moonlit dusk
He never ponders, never fears
For his heart is filled with cold blood.

He pries on his prey,
Unknowingly she falls into his metal cage
He locks it and puts the key in his pocket
And never comes back.

The damsel in distress
In her white flowing expensive grown
Docked in pearls and exquisite treasures
Is now caged in morbid coldness in the darkened
Interior of a hidden dungeon blocked in view of light

The helpless victim,
A fool of a man's love
Degrades into his slave
Pinning for the love that
Will never, ever come.


The Vulture

The vulture's dovelike eyes
Tracing the crowd in merciless hunger
Waiting patiently for his next prey
That he would devour in amusement

Deep in his spiritless eyes is a
Barren soul that has lost his way
He travels through the darkness
Never, refusing to let go of the past

His eyes light up with exaltation
As he pries on his next frail victim
The taste of blood equivalent to pleasure
He rips her apart in his savage laughter

She lays dead in front of his bloody eyes
He delightfully flies to another place
He continues living a state of denial
Of the regrets of his past love.