It may be a cryptic remark, an unfinished story
Or a deathly poison disguised as a melody.
It may be a simple question of your sanity,
A wicked game of the darkest vanity.
When you dive into this murky ocean of words
Little do you know that it will swallow you up.
As you flail helplessly, plunge deeper into the pit,
Never will you know how far there is to reach.
Rusted shackles will appear as enticing as velvet
Lies will be morphed as truth, hidden in a crochet.
Every tiny clue will paramount to something,
Everything will be cruelly bewitched as nothing.
It is the abstract feeling of smoke around you,
Blinding, captivating and mesmerising you.
Only when you try to wrap your fingers around it,
It disappears into thin air; iridescent as magic.
Yet as you read, you feel the eerie familiarity of this;
As in front of you sits a seemingly empty chalice.
You're ensnared by your own words that you told yourself
That you will never again fall for such enigmatic tales.
But what a betrayal, as now I unravel to you –
Riddle me this, for this was a riddle too.