Should one be guilty of awful sin caused by lass who tortured him?

For if I was left tortured then a guilty spirit, I am not.

O, how I thought I had forgot, but my evil eyes deceived me.

They did not --

Reminded me of the fantastic terrors on that frightful night.

The wonderful sight intrigued me, but now it also does tease me.

For my unworthiest eyes leave me so aweary and bloodshot.

 

‘Twas the error of my radiant maiden and none of my own.

That she laid upon my hoodwink bed with her skin as cold as stone.

And with her crippled bone and blood laced around my leonine hands

I did so, alone, caress the beauty of the moon’s brunette strands.

If my sanity be queried let it be known, I loved her so.

Because before I took my angel’s life a kiss, she got so slow.

From her lover’s heart, black and cold and his soul that shall cease to glow.

 

Because of all the sins, you wrong me with, dull day and active night

I no longer sing for God’s gorgeous, fine and radiant angel -

Who has made my life unmercifully painful.

O, if only you could witness your evilness through others’ sight.

You would understand why I killed you, this aphotic death of night.

If I won this losing fight, that is augmenting my stream of sight,

I would allow my soul to perch onto yours and fill it with glorious light.

 

If on your smooth neck, I squeezed tighter maybe more words would flutter,

And your stutter would please me before I put you to constant sleep.

But instead, just an ungainly mutter and a ghastly sputter

From my mistress’ soft, coral lips as they uttered with a gentle weep.

Much I marvelled at her corpse but terrified at her placid eyes.

For my countenance grew pallid as I stared at her eerie eyes.

Whilst I gave her a blow on her head to ensure her death was not slow.

 

I later fled outside to ponder about this sublimity.

And what just and righteous conduct follows this sweet delinquency.

For I never harmed lady or devil with an intent so low,

But as I sat down to recline my frail soul, I knew what would come.

‘Twas the land of judgement and of course over the Book - the mighty vow.

Because after murderous sweat perched my contrite brow.

I went to confess, for this is me now.