A Game

In the black market she was found when

Desert flames were dancing in her wings,

And her words were selling false promises, carrying illusions.         

She was found, she was kept,

There was nothing to gain, there was nothing to lose.

It was a risk willing to be taken. It was taken.

 

The things she had thought, she never said.

The things she had done stayed well hidden.

It was all part of the game, she started to play.

She didn’t play with colourful dice,

Nor did she play with beautiful dolls,

She played with the minds of others, and their hearts.

 

It was a game, that’s what it was.

Tearing hearts, which were meant to be loved.

Breaking confidence, which was meant to be built.

She didn’t use knives, or guns. It was a perfect crime.

It was just the girl from the black market,

With desert flames dancing in her wings.