Miss Chameleon

This is a poem

Miss Chameleon

A chameleon manipulates its color
To hunt and for protection
She manipulates her color
For greed and recreation
What is purple was first green
Starting as acts of survival
Her reflection, no longer seen
True identity, imprisoned by denial

Loose thighs and dirty knees
Blood so cold it lacks compassion
She views these as the keys
Up the ladder towards progression
Mind to simple for remorse
Self indulging her main action
R Complex - her brain's last course
Without looks, she’d have no traction

She has no need to break a sweat
Materialistic goals drive her choices
What others see she doesn't fret
Bodily actions calm their voices
Her targets caught in a trance
Helpless to see through her mask
Stacking the deck in advance
Without a conscience an easy task

Self integrity has no home
In her search for wealth and status
Double kneeling to the throne
Used her morals to build the lattice
Hiding the truth from those around
Losing sight of what is real
Without human traits, it's profound
That this cold reptile can even feel
                                                          -BM