(Photo: Daniela Paola Alchapar on Unsplash)
They took the temperature
Of the crowd,
And realized they could
Twist skeins of truth into
Great blobs of knotted lies,
Then sell
As remedy
To now a fevered mob,
A distorted gospel
Bloated with melodramatic
Sighs.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt of: Temperature in 37 words
(Photo: Rhett Wesley on Unsplash)
When she returned home
They thought
She had grown into what they had always
Hoped she’d be.
Instead she was
A mistress of
Illusion.
A mouth that spoke,
A smile that held
A hidden mock,
Bewitching their longing
Into the
Nightmare
She had planned
For them to feel
But not
See.
For Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt: Beguile in 51 words
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