Thrist

Parched

his throat is dry

he can't ignore

this horrible thrist.

Some say he's blind

can't see the web he's weaving

they believe hes unaware

that though now he's the spider, he'll end up the fly.

I think he's just addicted

to the crystal clear water

the cool liquid

from the black marble pool.

If he looked closer

maybe he'd see the evil

disguised as beauty to mans eye

theliquid he drinks is power and wealth, only an illusion at happiness.

Swallowing his own saliva

he tries to quench his thirst

but he comes crawling to the pools edge

to fill himself with lies.

Parched

the water is poison to the heart

love loyalty and truths assassin

he will never cease to be thirty.