Once the soul blackens,

the heart dissipates.

Once a thriving crux,

it was free of potential harm.

But there lurks one, always,

that one disguised piercer,

that appears with exquisite charm,

and grace.

It drives you deeper and deeper,

Until you are incapable of escape.

The inevitable sorrow is known,

Yet, it is overthrown by the utopia,

which clings to the mind, and takes control

So thus, you proceed your way down.

It severs the shield of fortification,

one taken years to build up,

and thrashes it so murderously,

with the same cunning,

so that the owner knows not of its harms.

It easily gapes through,

then suddenly becomes the aura

of all that is despised.

The poison spreads, not only to the mind,

but also the core of life itself,

the heart.

It leaves scars and disappears,

waiting to inject others,

with its paradoxical venom,

leaving the owner vulnerable,

Without thought, without judgment,

but still so full of want.