Disguise

You’re a trusting set of folk.
If I was being unkind I’d say you were an unthinking set of folk, but I’m not unkind. I just do my job.
You trust us because our mouths look pretty and our teeth look healthy, just like yours. We look exactly like your own females. But we’ve gone beyond.
It’s the makeup that does it [makeup, derivation: ‘the manner in which something is put together’. That should give you a hint.]
If you cleaned my shining lips you’d see the blood that’s permanently stuck in the cracks. You’d see the sneer, not the smile. And if you pulled at just one of my teeth it’d come away easily in your fingers and you’d have to hold your nose against the stink of the rotten stub.
I’m always surprised you never smell us. Our disguises can’t mask smells. But you trust, you believe. You think we’re just like you. You never investigate.
You spend your summers on yachts [yacht, derivation: ‘fast pirate ship’. That should give you another hint.] And the summer’s when we make our harvests.
You trusting set of folk have a simple love of sun, sea and sailing. And you have the money to borrow, or even to buy, fast pirate ships so we lie in wait and when you’re on board and far enough away from land (not to mention somewhat drunk) we emerge and you think we’re part of your party.
It’s your makeup we use, your yachts we sail.
But we make it back alive, every time.
You never do.