Our children pawns in your sick game
Your goal unfocused by their imbedded pain
Feed them lies, change their views
You believe protection in your abuse
Manipulate memories, distort their joy
The smiles of youth forever destroyed
Act the part, fake a heart
Oscar-worthy in your sick art
Tears of a Croc. flow in your pleas
Sympathy stolen from all who believe
These ways of yours are prone to last
Neglecting the damage after your time has passed
I stand alone in knowing your ways
Yearning for closure to these darkest of days
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Written for Fandago’s FOWC Challenge prompt ~ “Prone”
The Magic Shop 
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