I was talking to myself and came up with the line "instead they take the poisoned berries handed to them like they're a god-given cure" so here is poems based off of it
His words, a venom, sharp and sly,
Spilled from a mouth that never tries
To heal, to soothe, to lift the soul—
Only to poison, twist, and control.
Each sentence laced with bitter sting,
A heavy blow from a hollow king.
In every tweet, in every speech,
He reached to tear, to bruise, to breach.
Promises dripped in bitter hues,
A master of the darkest news.
He weaved his lies, with artful grace,
A smirk upon his troubled face.
The truth, a casualty in his fight,
As facts dissolved in the toxic light.
Yet those who hear his wicked call,
Fall deeper still beneath his thrall.
For words like these can tear apart,
They plant a seed, corrupt the heart.
But in the end, though loud they roar,
The poison fades—truth stands once more.
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Instead they take the poisoned berries handed to them like they’re a god-given cure—
Bitter fruit, with a lethal allure,
That promises healing, but leaves them to rot,
Feeding on lies that they’ve been taught.
His words are sweet, his smile a mask,
A gentle whisper, a dangerous task.
“Trust me,” he says, “I’ll make it right,”
But darkness blooms where there once was light.
Instead they take the poisoned berries,
Blind to the thorns that twist within,
They taste the venom, convinced it’s sweet,
And fall to the rhythm of their own defeat.
The cure they seek is a cruel disguise,
For in each berry, a sorrow lies.
They drink the poison, the whispers, the lies,
And wonder, too late, why the world still dies.
But when the dawn breaks, they will see—
The berries were never meant to set them free.
And in the ruin, the truth will stir:
No god gives poison—only a deceiver.
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**The Poisoned Gift**
Instead they take the poisoned berries,
Handed to them like a god-given cure—
A promise painted red and sweet,
A bitter gift, they eat and eat.
His words, like fruit with lethal glow,
Drip false hope where doubt should grow,
And in their hunger, they take the bite,
Believing venom tastes of light.
"Trust me," he murmurs, with hungry eyes,
While shadows stretch and truth lies tied.
They crave the healing, the promised ease,
Blind to the thorn that digs, that bleeds.
The berries cling, like secrets kept,
Wrapped in pride and swallowed deep.
And they, in thrall, in dreams secure,
Let poison pass as if it's pure.
But when dawn breaks, the fog will clear,
The truth lies sharp, like shattered mirrors—
No god gives poison as a cure,
Only deceivers, cruel and near.