I let him into my world, thinking I could trust him.
His drawings made me speechless, not knowing what to do.
He had made me happy with his art, and all his kind words,
But that is not the way his world works.

He said he loved me, but he made me blind.
I was so naive to what he made me leave behind.
I never knew I was losing family and friends,
Or that it would be how my world ends.

To him, I was just paper that can be manipulated.
He could draw anything he contemplated,
And he had hoped to keep me to himself.
I… was never myself.

I became frightened of the artist, whose drawings and smile once brought me joy.
I soon became aware of his ploy.
I finally broke away, despite his plea.
I finally knew that the artist and I were never meant to be.

I apologized to my friends and family,
Hoping that they could forgive me.
The artist once had my soul,
And he had prevented me from my goal.

Because I loved him, I almost became like him.
My own future almost grew dim.
Because I loved the artist,
I was biased.

Now I am aware, and now I am peaceful at last,
For that was all in the past.
I grew stronger,
And I got braver.

I now know what is good from bad,
And I am quite glad
That I am not biased.
I am not like the deceiving artist.