The Cloak you wear.

You sip from my cup with seasoned grace,

Yet poison my name in a stranger's place.

You wear the cloak of friend so neat,

But your heart walks with serpent feet.

You pluck my sighs like flowers in spring,

Then trade them cheap for gossip’s ring.

Each laugh we shared now feels like smoke,

A veil you wore, a silent cloak.

Your ears were gates to my private rains,

Now rivers spill from your tongue in chains.

Behind your smile, a dagger slept—

And while I bled, you softly wept.

The wolf that walks in sheep's attire,

Feeds not on flesh, but trust and fire.

I named you "brother," made you kin—

But you sold my truth for shallow sin.

So may your mirror never crack,

Let it remind you what you lack:

A soul that dances in the light—

Not one that feeds on borrowed night

© Bunguswa ™