A poem

After that trip.

That manipulation game

where dark psychology reigns.

Now I read between the lines,

and see right past

all your smiles.

Your gaze,

now I see.

is not kindness,

or curiosity.

and neither your bees.

The trip that gave me all the fear,

and now I see all the tears.

So much death,

just to be right,

and have more likes.

The result of the game,

was the point of your plays.

to leave me in a state,

where I wreck my own stage.

I took the bait,

even though I didn’t choose to play.

It was all rigged

from the start anyway.

The first thing I did,

take my name off the books.

This resulting in,

lost communication with,

those that should be family.

Now my name is off your tree.

& Next what I did was run in circles of Grimm,

trying to fix what could no longer be,

Stuck in the past,

the best smokescreen.

Wasting my time,

while you make a dime,

leaving the sequence to me.

And I took the bait again,

frustrated I was,

I knew better and still took the line.

And with that I realized

I could follow it back this time.

I watched myself,

even while hooked.

I followed the line right back to its lead.

My shock and dismay,

when I saw the Queen.