Torn, aye, torn we are,
for in the throes of the moment
our persons be reclaimed
and in the embrace of the ever beloved
we be whole again.
When our sands be all but ran
and the tides, yea, real they be upon us,
will we succumb in peace or atrembling
hearts perfectly forged in endearing frivolity
and make berth eternal in port Maiden of Virtue
Yea or nay
such disheartening query.
Fie and much doom
to whomsoever be queried.
For therein lies life and death.
This be the beastly machinations of a spinx,
for to nay, i'm pleasure filled awhile
but to the brig of damnation i'm forever incarcerated
and to yea, i'm redeemed eternally unto salvation,
basking in the joys of exclusivity.
Alas, i'm stuck in this beguiling conundrum
for to have tasted of Eden's glorious buffet
and then be crudely denied.
It be alike a drunk to his wine.
Topic(s) of this poem: choice, lifestyle
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.