The Betrayal Wore Your Face

I built a house with trust for beams,
With walls of words we swore to keep,
And in its halls, our laughter streamed,
A place where loyalty could sleep.

But you, a serpent in disguise,
Slithered through the open door,
With honeyed tongue and hollow eyes,
And left my home upon the floor.

You smiled while twisting in the knife,
A blade so sharp it kissed my spine.
I never saw the cracks in life—
I only felt the fault was mine.

You counted tickets, one by one,
Enough for all, except for me.
And in the dark, when all was done,
You called it fate. I called it grief.

A lie was sewn beneath your breath,
A tale so vile, so carefully spun,
It stole my place, it feigned my death,
And made a war that you had won.

I reached for hands that once were mine,
But found them pulled away instead.
Your whispers soured hearts like wine,
And left me drinking spite instead.

Oh, how the weight of all your sins,
Still bends the backs of those you scorn.
Yet you walk free with shameless grins,
While I wear scars where love was torn.

So here you are, so smug, so grand,
With silver lies upon your lips.
But tell me this—does your own hand
Not tremble where the poison drips?

You call it past, you call it done,
Yet still the echoes claw my name.
The fire set can’t be outrun,
When you’re the one who lit the flame.

I let you in, I played the fool,
Believed in light behind your gaze.
But snakes don’t change and liars rule—
And treachery wears your face.