Words words the magical fruit

They wear a grin like polished glass,
and watch the room while shadows pass.
Every word is bait and wire,
every promise built to tire.

They trade in praise, then twist the knife,
turning trust into a price of life.
Always hungry, always needing,
always taking, always feeding.

Mirror-sharp, they bend the light,
make wrong feel soft and make false feel right.
A throne of smoke, a crown of blame—
they leave your heart but dodge the pain