Devourer

I archive what's not falsified
Collecting truth to spin lies
Lines of silk and cotton wool
Soft enough to trap worn fools
 
With a weary head  
They slumber deep
I offer solace
A place to sleep
 
Unafe under a world intricately spinned
But I live alone  
Voluntarily pinned
 
There is no abyss one can fathom
That's greater than deciet's chasm
Im pushed deeper as the weight above
Is compounded by what I steal from love
 
Because
Trust is a compromising thing
A desecrated, half eaten offering
 
One day what we consume will feast upon what's left
The main course our ego to rightfully digest.