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
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