You reach into the quiet dark,
With polished words and borrowed lines,
Hoping to catch a careless spark,
And pull me into your designs.
You trade in tricks and phantom gold,
A ghost behind a shiny screen,
Selling a story quickly told,
To profit on what isn\'t seen.
I see the trap, I see the game,
I turn away and clear the space,
I leave you nothing but your name,
And leave no footprint in this place.