The Illusionist

This is a poem, about someone who has lied to me. I think you'l find it easy to relate.

The illusionist is evil
         Coiled with horrid thoughts
The Illusion he creates          
         And the power he holds
Meshed between unbalanced folds
         Drenched with sorrow you close the distance
Between him and your resistance
         But soon you find twas a bad mistake
He holds the key now much to late
         Your sad attempts to find the truth
But in his hand he holds the illusion
         The power to make you believe what you see
You think your lost you are with a tend
         That power he makes all truth bend
Your will is sparse so falls your glory
         He morphs a lie another story
Chained to a block
         There's no where to go
The places he holds
         The lies that he's told
All placed in your mind till he's done with your soul
         Days go slow
While people go fast
         He adds to the cycle
His feelings don't last
         Called to the day of now
He roles the dice and found
         One today another tomorrow
Two to play and one for sorrow
         To the faded unread treasure
He who knows the highest measure of thy deepest regrets
         He finds the one to play with next