The Dangers of Dark Manipulation
Beneath the tongue of velvet grace,
There crept a thing without a face,
A shadow dressed in gentle art—
With honeyed words and a serpent’s heart.
It spoke not loud, nor struck with hand,
But bent the soul to its command;
A smile became a sharpened knife,
A slow unmaking of a life.
The candle glowed with sickly breath,
As trust lay dying, pale as death;
And in the chambers of the mind
Were chains no mortal eye could find.
“Oh friend,” it whispered, soft and low,
“Without me, where indeed wouldst thou go?”
Thus fear was poured like poisoned wine
Till borrowed thoughts were thought divine.
The mirrors darkened one by one,
The moon itself refused the sun;
For manipulation’s cruel embrace
Leaves ghosts where once there stood a face.
I saw the victims wandering there,
With vacant eyes and broken prayer,
Still hearing in the midnight rain
The voice that drove them near insane.
And some became what they endured—
Cold masks by agony obscured;
For evil taught too long and deep
Will haunt the soul that cannot sleep.
Beware the hands that never strike,
Yet twist the heart till none alike
The former self remains inside—
Only silence, fear, and pride.
For devils need not dwell below;
Sometimes they walk the earth slow,
And dine with us by firelight dim
While Heaven’s stars grow faint and grim.
Then bar thy door against such art,
And guard with iron thine own heart;
For darkest ruin may begin
Not with a scream—but whispered sin.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
