Who would fight the player for power?
The Queen, the King, the bishop, the tower?
When finding things better left unfound,
They'll bury their secrets deep in the ground.
Using shovels, piling dirt,
Hiding behind a pretty face and skirt.
Telling lies doused in honey,
All in hope of gaining money,
Spinning sugar from their lips,
Brushing off mistakes as simple blips.
Then when found out,
Screaming, crying,
Many insults, accused of lying,
Once it's over they will pout,
Showing shadows of trust and doubt.
Then once doubt turns to sorrow,
Crash, the mirror shatters,
Leaving trails of glass to tomorrow.
