Fool's Gold Poem by Margaret Purslow

Lying lips of deceit
Your thirst is unquenched
Greedy, cunning hands wringing
Seeing them in their darkest hour
Still you choose not to do anything

Hatred is your word, your bond
To only your vision,
You have succumbed
In the end,
revenge will be your only friend

Two sons in a broken home
One becomes his father's son
The other regrets what he has done
Evil begets evil,
Seems like that is how war is won

When young we think we know it all
Our glittery, golden glasses shine a light
We are fooled only to befall
Bowing to that which grants our delight
You can run but you cannot hide
Quick to the slow, inside you've died