The Enchanted Foe

The Enchanted Foe She lurks in the garments of fugitive empathy, Her abode is the refuge of burdened and bleeding souls She is the sojourner in the sanctuary of sorrowful hearts Bewitching the bewildered and the bothered Captivating the wounded and the confounded, the baffled and the bereft She saunters, seeking the soulful and the unsuspecting She bathes, as the lids of wistful eyes, welling with tears, lent by the old croc, silver rain from the cloudy face of the pretentious; blemished by invisible dirt She craves the privy to your secrets She is nourished by your misfortune; of which she makes music, grotesque but soothing to idle ears Those who indulge her, become music to idle ears Her instrument is the tongue, Supine and slyly wagging Ever a friend in need, never a friend in deed Can’t help, but break aching hearts She is the enchanted foe, rich in libelous lyrics; grisly but gripping If her song delights your ears, it is given, you are a chorus; delighting idle ears