veils of deceit

 In the shadows where whispers linger,  
Gossip dances like dust in the sunlight,  
A telltale whirring, weaving tales,  
Behind my back, you twist and turn  
Words into weapons, slashing like daggers—  
Who knew a busybody could cut so deep?  

Chatterboxes clamor, eager for attention,  
Spilling secrets as if they were coffee—  
Hot, messy, and spilling everywhere,  
And I'm the subject, their fervent fix,  
A talebearer’s delight, a drama queen’s dream,  
Clenching the lowdown like a badge of honor.  

Oh, shade thrown in the name of friendship,  
Look at you, practicing your aim,  
But with every shot, you miss the target—  
I’m not the fool you paint in your stories,  
Just a mirror reflecting your insecurities,  
Your need to fabricate while I stand tall.  

Talking trash is an art form, I see,  
But remember, art is subjective, darling—  
To the audience, you’re just a dull painting,  
Colors dimmed by your petty brushstrokes.  
The tea you spill is lukewarm at best,  
And the dirt you dig only buries your truth.  

You think I won't rise like a phoenix?  
Those fires of your envy fuel my flight,  
As I gather my strength, I’ll laugh as I soar,  
While you're stuck in the echo of your lies,  
A busybody’s prison, tangled in webs,  
Spinning tales that no one believes.  

The gossip you wield is a flimsy sword,  
It cuts through nothing, just branches and leaves—  
I’m fortified with resilience you cannot see,  
And your words, like feathers, are carried away—  
So let them flutter, let them drift,  
For I am anchored, while your ship sinks.  

So keep talking, stay busy in your chatter,  
As I walk my path, rewind, replay,  
You’ll be the star in your one-man show,  
But know this truth, as I wave goodbye:  
The tea runs cold, the dirt settles deep,  
And in the silence, I will no longer weep.  

Your tales of shade only sharpen my light,  
I’m rising above the noise, shining bright,  
So save your lowdown for someone naive,  
I see the facade, I choose to believe:  
In friendships that lift, not those that betray,  
And in the truth of myself, I won’t sway.  

So here’s my comeback, fierce and bold,  
Your words have no power; they’ve grown old,  
I’ll thrive in the sunlight, my spirit will sing,  
While you linger in shadows, clutching your sting—  
With each step I take, I’ll scatter your doubt,  
Keep your gossip, my truth will shout.