Love's affectation wasted
Measured by most jaded minds
Seduction's kiss, never tasted
Forever's promise left behind...

Happily regret does bide
Bathing in the silver pools
Illuminating misery's bride
Proving her a wanton fool...

Evening's music softly calls
Beckoning nights lone embrace
Through ragged breath a torrent falls
Sing true, poor bride, the fall from grace...

"Where long before, her grace did grow
Her love a fertile soil
Strangling deceit was sown
Wherein her fate lay coiled
Many years to stand between
To right and left great thorns
A rose fit to grace a queen
Her beauty now fallen scorned
Though each had given equal shade
Each sharing morning's dew
They pulled her at her very roots
No room for growth anew
As petals fell to meet the ground
Sanity's blooms all torn
Her color faded into the night
Dawn brought no life reborn
There where he beauty once had stood
The thorns they latched in rage
Til death for them seemed much to good
Both spent, fell face to face
Agreeing nothing more to gain
These thorns took up their vines
Thinking that their rose was slain
Her remains they left behind
Brown and faded, she fought on
Hope feeding useless fantasy
Her fertile soil forever gone
Misery left as her destiny"

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