Of Being Wary

the world is full of alterior motives...

 

i see you, poised, precarious,

your smile twists, nefarious,

can't tell if you're serious,

until the blood is spilled.

your eyes, they glint, with melancholy

but naught for acts of which you're sorry

more because you miss your quarry

now that it's been killed.

the feelings never long in fleeting

after all, your hearts still beating,

and there are many more for meeting

naive of mind, and weakly willed

and in they'll flock like little fishes

eager to fulfill your wishes

and which you'll break like antique dishes

because you'll never be fulfilled.