The Con In Confidence

What face the jester does wear To snatch her stare And blind her eyes From the surprise That nothing is what it appears His trick, hand picked Certain she will fall For the love of it all All wrapped up in a summer squall The Mystic So twisted her religion Based solely on the decision That she knew him well and wise And so was her demise The con man With practiced slight of hand Showed coins of gold For her to hold Then switch the pitch And sold her down the line Left her with nothing left to shine The thief, beyond belief With ninja footfall stepped on her grief Trinkets taken, identity mistaken She could not sketch his true face In a barely there and broken space All she knew of what was real Was she had fallen for a raw deal The smiling clown Leaving town And with that Tore the Big Top down