Bothersome Practices
But stop, my heart has sunken in my chest,
For this vulture has deceived my regard.
His voice, a never ending singing bard
That controls my every move, a mere test.
Why would it not be, to treat thee as guest?
‘tis an obstacle; perfect skin with scars,
Foreboding the end of all pure vanguards.
The eerie solution seemed quite jest.
Never shall I allow myself falter
To a man’s utterly, false charming ways
And his overcoming meaningless chats.
I’ll bring myself harmony and alter
My feature of loving those who betrays
And swat them away, the horrendous gnats.