Boomerang

Pristine faces could be deceiving 
Like a masquerade in the making 
Don't trust too much, even the friendliest hand 
It could cast a spell like a magic wand 

But guilty conscience can kill 
Like the blades of a sickle 
Hold your faith and lay still 
Let their echoes make them fickle 

September 26, 2022, 9:53 AM
13.3771° N, 121.1646° E
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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