Dark: my heart and thoughts of her.
Dark: her soul and eyes.
Bleak: my hopes and dreams of life.
Triumphant are her lies.

Sordid was the tale she wove,
Discordant was her song,
Captivating was her voice, and
Lost: my life by wrong.

Bitterness gnaws upon my soul,
Strung in shackles here.
I’ve empathy in great amount,
I weep for her a great lament
I sorrow for her near torment, for
Her’s: The Greater Toil.

She wreaks her way upon the ground,
Bound by visions as we speak,
Which tell of death and malady,
Which will her life despoil.

11/30/1999

Posted on 09/25/2001
Copyright © 2025 Leandra K Brossard