My ink flows
as tears roll down my cheek
When I write of that chick
dressed in as snow
the heartbreaker

I write of her tales
the  worst of whom she is
a pretender worst than a murderer
to me an angel she was in my point of view
hoping to have found my perfect match
Only to judge a book by its cover

In my nolstagic memory ,I recall
her beauty and hardwork she was
As time went by ,beauty and hardwork fades away.
Only to learn she's a fox amongst sheep

All that glitters is not gold