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Sweeter than honey,
More valuble than money,
Yet it is razor sharp.

Its wounds so not bleed,
But hurts worse indeed,
Bypassing flesh into heart.

It can melt a heart of ice,
and cause lives to sacrifice
themselves in the art of war.

Can be real or an illusion
and the source of much confusion
Because it can be so much more.

It is how things percieved,
and people are decieved,
or convinced of the matters that are unknown

It is all point of view,
yet is sometimes askew,
on the way some things are shown.

What is black is sometimes white,
what is evil can be all right,
in this twisting labrynthine.

But wiser men than I,
cannot fathom or deny,
the power of this thing.

Be they long or little,
the answer to this riddle,
is staring you right in the face.

And you cannot deny,
it makes you smile or cry,
or perhaps dream of a distant place.