Hope is but a dream

The world always seems so beautifully innocent when you’re holding the devil’s drink in your hand

- She smirked at the thought-

The Devil’s liquid

Such an adequate coined phrase, more devastating than pretty.

The Devil does not provoke you to sin,

But his name is always the most popular on lips when sin has entered the room.

Around and around the circumference the liquid swirls, where it will go, no one knows- to the truth, or to the throws- no one knows.

Try not to judge the ones who spite those by cutting off their own nose -

They forget to know there’s more to the story than what the critics highlight.

So She tries to hide

The sparkle in her eye is more prominent than the darkness in her nightmares.

She sees the man stumble into existence - lackadaisical with an attractive indifference.

To play his game, she’ll need to be coy and quaint in the bat of an eye - though that is only the first cast.

Silver screens have blinded the world, influenced the difference between reality and fiction - wouldn’t you rather play the game of sparkle, pop, and circumstance?

It’s all high school, anyway - we never actually grow up.

That’s just a lie we tell ourselves.

She knows it’ll be her countenance - her perseverance - her disposition.

He’s a book she’s read,

And she’s another page he’s haphazardly understood - Enough to play, but not enough to close.

It doesn’t matter -

It’s the same book,

Maybe it’s a different story.

But it always ends up the same, doesn’t it?

She swallows the rest of the sinful treat - it’s cold, but it feels good as it trickles down her throat.