In shadows cast by whispers, lies untangled,
A tapestry of words, faux gold and cruel.
The liar dances lightly, a waltz of deceit,
With verses spun from silk, yet laced with heat.

In streets where trust once thrived, now silence dwells,
Each promise like a fragile shell, a beckoning bell.
What sparkles in the sun holds secrets tight—
A silver tongue may glitter, but it blurs the light.

The heart, a tender garden, once bloomed in dreams,
Now shrouded in the echoes of unspoken screams.
For trust, a fragile bird, takes flight on gossamer,
But when it finds the chains, the world grows dimmer.

Yet listen to the aching, the quiet plea within,
For every lie spun desperately seeks the truth to spin.
In tales where shadows linger, where honesty is rare,
The liar’s heart once knew the sweet taste of despair.

So let us not just grieve when deceit comes to call;
For even in the fabric’s fray, we find we’re not so small.
Through jagged shards of honour, we learn to mend and rise,
For truth, though often hidden, is worth the searching skies.

Embrace the weary wanderer, who stumbles on their quest,
In each deceitful moment, a lesson manifests.
In the echoes of the liar, let empathy take root,
For within the darkest stories, waits the light of truth.