The lurid taupe of memories
Doth stain and shade the color of my heart.
These ne'er forgotten tradgedies
Are ill-begotten cuts of bitter tart.
In my life's plot, th'antagonist,
A true Luciferian deviant,
Abused my nat'rèd pacifist,
And thievèd my motives in consequence.
The bastard's act tore heart from mind;
It hath mine love and friends and being cursed.
Upon that morrow thou designed;
In strong comforting then I was immersed.
'Tis sad that I now only see thine light
In this: the long, last hour of my life.
Adding your comment: