I thought you were honey-sweet, smooth, and light.
But really you were molasses, dark slick and bitter.
A game where I lost it all and you became the winner, a game in which none of the guests could enjoy the family dinner.
The golden child I saw but when I drew back, I noticed what I was touching was black.
And how could I see that in the end, it was me, my heart was under attack.
I thought you were like honey made of elegance and tea, but you were like molasses your goal was only to destroy me.
