Deceit is the tool that you chose,
To destroy this beautiful life that was given to you.
We accepted for as long as we could,
Made allowance and excuse
Along the way,
But you were hell-bent,
On creating a façade
As big as the sky,
And when the day was done,
No allowance or excuse
Stood a chance.

Of what benefit is a lie;
Fleeting recognition,
Fueled by treachery?
What have you sacrificed,
If not all,
Or who you might have been?

You don’t come around anymore,
Hating us because we know,
But I suppose it is better than self-loathing,
Which would defeat the game that you play.

Would you like to borrow a trophy;
Maybe a fast car with a convertible top?
I hear zirconium looks real to the naked eye,
Is Botox as good as the knife?
The good looks, I am afraid,
Have betrayed you:
I hear that happens
When you are fifty going on eighteen.
Have you ever considered the damage,
Done to all those who once called you their friend?

Recognition has, perhaps, some reward,
To some it means nothing at all,
But if built on a house of cards,
Is of little value as it begins to fall.
But your lies are far more sinister,
Those designed to cause nothing but pain,
What could have ever led you down this path,
What takes you back to it again and again?
You have lost all that might be dear to you,
Supplanted it with fantasies forlorn,
You have sacrificed an existence with meaning,
And are left with your lies all alone.

Once, I had hope for our family,
It would be enough to be like all the rest,
But you needed to be like royalty,
And were embarrassed to be saddled with all of us.
Your lies have driven a wedge,
Between us one and all,
And I am left with the question,
You snooty old bitch;
Where did you get the gall.