I hide behind a lie forged by my hand,
Before this chiseled frame,  
Beyond the perfect shell they will not see my deceit
Thrown acrimoniously at their feet.
But they love the lie, the truth would only disappoint;
Disarray their shallow intentions,
After all, my invention pleases them
So why not let them drink up the joy
That it possesses? It impresses their eyes,
How the lies just continue to spiral to madness
But with gladness I let slip the snap of the treasure,
The feeling of pleasure ensnared in my hand
And the rushing deathblow it deals to their delusions.
You see I am the master of such dark illusions
And my creature, my beauty, entices them in
With the slightest of nods, the subtlest grin
As the desperate begging keeps them pouring in.
So I toy with their minds; their kind is so… fickle;
Just tickle the ego, caress their detestable best,
To watch them so quickly impressed
And so willing to drop and undress
What a mess they are in their desperateness.
But still, I confess, I love that they’re mine
Ensnared in my propaganda made of flesh,
At the will of my god, my Adonis, my shrine
The most perfect creation, sculpted divine.
Sublime in its presence but mendaciously sly;
In essence, nothing more than an ugly actuality,
Beneath such a beautiful lie.