Beware the gent who flaunts a honey tongue,

Whose purple prose wins love and wealth alike;

His song is sweet yet leaves so much unsung;

Behind his words, a blade is set to strike.

Beware the maid whose smile shines like gold,

Her friendliness is but a painted mask;

What’s underneath is twisted, curt, and cold:

A gargoyle face, deceitful and grotesque.

Beware the ones who beautify the truth,

With substituted, sugarcoated terms;

Although these tales are crafted so to soothe,

Their trickery, like flames, can sting and burn.

For clouds bring woe and raindrops dull your eyes,

But nothing bests the pain of pretty lies.