She sits there lost inside of her own mind. Wondering how she's capable of
creeping up on such innocent lives and contaminating them with her poisonous
ways. Addicting she is. In small doses she will come. Your crave feasting
upon itself as your next small dose arrives at your first symptom of death.
Withdrawals consisting of suicidal thoughts have occured. None the less, a
sane person enrolling into a mental instituion. She, herself, leaves you
wondering if she should be allowed outside in this world.

Fragile hearts of such delicacy will be an unforgettable stain on the knife
which she holds. The artwork of liar, theif, heartbreaker. The paint that
her victims spill, will go along unnoticed by her. Watching you and
laughing, everyone to be an audience of her crime. Predictable you are, an
old black and white film. Black and white remains of your loss. Your missing
colors are most assuredly her gain.

Her problem is nothing. Your problem is that you intiated a conversation
with her once, that led you here. An attraction between two people often
results in the desire of each other's company. Guilty we all have
experienced. It's you that fell inside the words she spoke, drowning
yourself in your hopeful thoughts. In the very beginning, she came along
with a warning. Did she not tell you she loved you? I'm sure she did. Did
she not tell you she wasn't in love with you? I'm sure she didn't. The
unspoken words remain her key of silence. To find a truth in a liar you must
look for the underlying message in every sentence spoken, and unspoken.
 
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