He's all glamour,
full of sorcery.
Pulling shimmering see-through veils over his audience's eyes,
only barely covering his alluring lies.
He asks us to watch his left hand,
the magic hand.
We're sucked into glitzy rapture,
oblivious to the devious deeds his right hand
performs behind his back.
We watch as birds appear in his welcoming aura,
never guessing as to where they came from.
Our subconcious shouts at us,
begging not to let him hurt one more innocent life.
Our hypnotized minds refuse to listen to reason.
He proves to us that we don't know what's right,
and what's real.
His hands move to quickly to follow,
to fast to catch his tiny deceptions.
But at the end up the show,
he's the only one
who is surronded by real-life illusions.
Author notes
I wrote this at the same time as the puppet-master, and they were both inspired by the same person, but they came out rather differently.
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