Choice

Mirrored Deception

23/7/25

In the realm of manipulation's artful guise, 
Resides a tactic where deceit does arise.
The Mirror Effect, a cunning masquerade, 
A manipulator's game so skillfully played.

They study you closely, observe with keen eye, 
To mimic your manner, to imitate your why.
Reflections they become, your traits they acquire,
Crafting a mirrored image, stoking desire.

With practiced precision, they mirror your grace, 
Adapting their gestures, your essence they embrace.
Their words echo yours, your beliefs they align,
Creating an illusion, a connection so fine.

But behind the facade, there lies a disguise, 
A web of deceit, spun with calculated lies.
They seek to control, to mold your will,
Using your own reflection, their purpose to fulfill.

Beware the mirrored tricks, the artful deceit, 
For beneath their reflection, motives may retreat.
Hold on to your truth, your individuality,
Don't let their mirrored web ensnare your reality.

In the face of the mirror, stay vigilant and strong, 
Know your own worth, where you truly belong.
Break free from their grasp, reclaim your own voice, 
And shatter the illusion, make your own choice.

For the Mirror Effect may try to misguide, 
But authenticity and self-awareness will be your guide.
Stay true to yourself, let your light shine bright, 
And escape the clutches of their mirrored night.
Kizzie, Ersell Leave a comment

The Wicked Weave: A Coven’s Cunning

23/7/8
In shadows' cloak, where secrets dwell,
Whispers weave their intricate spell.
A guiding hand with cunning art, 
To bend the will, to play its part.
Behold the art of Odessa Fade, 
A mastermind in masquerade,
She wields her power, sly and keen, 
With choices twain, a wicked scheme.

"If you desire control," she said,
"Two choices, stark, shall lie ahead.
One, a path that's filled with fear, 
The other, draped in allure, so clear."

The first, a specter, daunting, grim,
A choice that's fraught with terror's whim.
A haunting choice, where shadows loom,
A path that leads to certain doom.

The second choice, a sweet charade,
A tempting offer, cunningly made.
A silver platter, seemingly blessed,
The path of comfort, the very best.

For many souls, enticed and swayed,
By options deftly Odessa laid,
They choose the mask of lesser pain,
To quell their doubts, their thoughts restrain.

In haste, they rush, their minds confined,
Seeking solace, the easy find.
A feeble shield, their doubts to quell, 
Under Odessa's beguiling spell.

So heed this caution, gentle heart,
When faced with choices, set apart,
Beware the charms, the false embrace, 
And see beyond her treacherous face.

For in the realms where freedom gleams, 
We must unveil these wicked schemes.
To think, to ponder, to break the mold, 
And forge our paths, both brave and bold.















			

	
					

				Kizzie, Ersell								Leave a comment
							

	
		
	



			
				


	

		
Art vs Expectations

	

	

		
	

		

		
In a world where dreams were cast aside,
My artistic fire began to hide.
The people around me, their doubts grew strong,
"Study harder, child, don't you want to belong?"

Ambitions suppressed, I followed their lead,
Achieving straight A's, fulfilling their creed.
But empty was my heart, devoid of delight, 
For I craved the canvas, the colors so bright.

High school arrived, my facade crumbled fast,
Grades slipped away, like grains in an hourglass.
Yet within the chaos, a spark reappeared, 
1 picked up my pencil, my passion revered.

Years lost, creativity held in chains, 
But I embraced art, despite the pains.
And amidst the struggle, a glimmer of hope, 
For my mother's support, like a lifeline, she'd rope.

Yet weary I grew, tired of pretense,
Of family's false pride, their shallow defense.
Demanding my work, their voices would persist, 
But their words felt hollow, a mocking twist.

So now I break free, from their expectations,
Seeking my path, defying frustrations.
For art is my essence, my soul's sweet release,
Not measured by praise or societal peace.

I'll paint with resilience, my spirit aflame,
With strokes of passion, I'II etch my own name.
No longer bound by their doubtful embrace,
I'll forge my own destiny, in colors I trace.

For true fulfillment lies in following my heart,
In art's vast canvas, I'll find my true art.
No more seeking validation or lies to appease,
I’ll paint my own masterpiece, my soul's masterpiece.

			

	
					

				Kizzie, Ersell								Leave a comment