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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

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