He could have told her
That she's going to be poisoned,
Warned her of the lurking danger,
But instead, he chose to keep it a mystery.

He watched, as if a cruel puppeteer,
The poison's slow dance within her veins,
Content to let it unfold onto her,
To see her fate unfold as it comes.

With a twisted smile upon his lips,
He reveled in her obliviousness,
Playing games with her fragile heart,
As she innocently danced through life.

Yet in his twisted web of deception,
He made bold vows of faithfulness,
Claiming loyalty and undying love,
As if his words could heal her wounds.

Where does he find such confidence,
To toy with a fragile soul's existence?
To feed her lies, while professing devotion,
Is it arrogance or a lack of remorse?

Does he not see the anguish he inflicts,
The pain that blossoms in her trusting eyes?
Or is his heart so hardened and callous,
That he revels in her slow demise?

But let him revel in his twisted game,
For truth will unveil its cruel face,
And when the poison finally takes hold,
His facade of love will crumble in disgrace.

For no amount of false devotion,
Can hide the venomous truth forever,
And in the end, she will find her strength,
To rise again and reclaim her worth.

So let him bask in his momentary power,
For the poison he sows will not endure,
And she, with resilience in her heart,
Will emerge, stronger than ever before.