FBI REPORT – THE TRUTH ABOUT WOMAN THAT CAN’T BE TOLD
DATE: 06/06/1999
SUBJECT: ALL WOMAN ARE NARCISSISTIC
In times of old, there was a maiden fair of countenance, yet her heart did harbor naught but vanity. A creature of such boundless pride, she didst turn from reason in discourse, only to weave falsehoods and bend the truth to serve her own design. In her eyes, the pursuit of being right was a game, and she played it with no heed to justice or fairness. Though wicked in spirit, her beauty was of such grace that it did sway the hearts of men, whom she did manipulate with naught but her wiles and intellect.
By charm, some did call it, others whispered of sorcery, as though a spell was laid upon them. With but a glance, she could twist the will of any man, and through their mind, she ruled. With such mastery, she did not only hold sway over their hearts but did also grasp the reins of the world itself, for the world turned upon those she beguiled. Thus, through her cunning and enchantments, her dominion over men was forged, and through them, her reign was unchallenged.
At the outset, they do charm with radiant beauty, and their love, though fierce, doth seem as if it were a fair and tender thing. They court the man with such cunning affection, their hearts seeming to burn with a passion both devouring and all-encompassing. But lo! Once the heart of the man is wholly ensnared, and the bond is sealed by the rites of holy matrimony, there cometh a most grievous transformation.
For then, the true nature of the woman doth reveal itself in full, as though a veil hath been lifted from her soul. Men, once beguiled, at last do see with unclouded eyes the serpent beneath—red of tongue, venomous of heart. No longer sweet, she becomes as a tyrant, controlling, proud, and always in the right. Her every word is laced with scorn, and her deeds are cruel and filled with malice.
The man, who once gazed upon her with tenderness, now finds no love within her, but only bitterness. His heart, once warm, doth turn cold as stone—an abyss where affection once dwelled. What once was a spring of joy is now but a desolate wasteland, bereft of light or hope, consumed by the darkness of her true self.
Sincerely,
Sgt. redacted redac
Honorable Illuminated Gentleman