To the Next Woman

He will tell you, you\'re beautiful.
He will weave stories like Arachne weaves webs.
He will appear as a knight in shinning armor,
With the crest of a prince on his chest.

He will make you feel perfect,
Like an individual snow flake,
But the elegance he paints you with-
Will make you as fragile as a cabinet of glass.

He is a master of disguise.
A different face for every occasion.
He is a master of lies-
His tongue as twisted as a snake around it\'s prey.
He knows nothing but control, and control over you he gains.

Because every step he took towards you,
Was a strategic and calculated step.
He manipulates as if he was birthed from Satan,
A charming smile portrays him as your saving grace.

And for the next woman,
To be lured into his springing trap-
I hope you will take my words and be advised.
That the loving things he said-
We\'re nothing more than open ended lies.

But that doesn\'t mean, you\'re not beautiful.
That doesn\'t mean you, weren\'t unique.
It doesn\'t mean, you don\'t have a grace about you-
That only a falling snowflake can replicate.
Because you are perfect.
And I only hate to see-
Your skin becoming a map-
Of all the ways he mistreats.