Victim Of My Own Wanting Poem by Wesongah David

Didn't you see me standing there while you cried?
And passed me the red flower from you tiny fingers?

And were you not around when I drew first blood?
And you cheered wildly when I yelled victory?

Fallacy-how long will you stare?
Keep piercing my conscience with your hideous eyes?

Tiny blue soft eyes,
that calleth my torments to totality.

Die Villain! die!
Close those starry eyes.

Ah! ! ! shriek! Victim of my own lust.
Victim of my own wanting.