"I don't want another pretender to disillusion me...
whispering words of forever, playing with my mind."
Mariah Carey~song lyrics
He was so charming, but never a prince. Sweet words he chose to mix and mince. How could my mind have been so dense, To let my heart rob me of common sense? It's true, I fell for many of his smooth lines. Love pricks like a fork with sharpened tines. Wounds causing me to need a defender From the one I call the great pretender. Or am I the pretender? Aren't we all great pretenders, at one time or another?
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