The Bait

If I were a fish in disguise... I'd be hooked on a cunning device. The bait which I once took often cries in despair, Bound in the torment of unyielding fear. How? you may ask, did I end up as bait? Perhaps from the offerings I chose to create. Gifts I knew would destroy me one day, Yet I offered them freely, come what may. A dream I once wished, all written in the stars. Faded without resolution, shattered as my spirit stirred. And I lost my grip when the chain of trust lost its gird.