I should have known better,

To think, I could ever my saturnine flood.


The clouds that thunder for my return to their dim weather,




With thunderous blows,

My fates been sown.


Silly child, you’ll never find love,

Because we can take it away,

For we control the doves.


No divine light will shine on you,

As for us, we set your gloom

To never leave,

We follow this tune.


A tune of death,

With every pump of your heart & whimper of breath.


You pitiful fool,

No glamor. No restraint. No rule.


What man or woman could love this one?

Grotesque monster,

Love is for the beautiful,

For the healthy,

For all, but you.


Hear my words,

Take my heed,

For love does not want you,

& she won’t satisfy your needs.


Die little pest, scrawny & obscene,

You’re ugly & bruised

We are no longer amused

Because your silly notion of love will be nothing more than a ruse.

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