Cheater's Chair
A destructive dance indeed,
betwixt the two we bleed.
A bellowing, bloody abate,
this stale, seductive state.
Simple, senseless steeds,
jealous fires feed.
Perjuring petty plights,
demons do delight.
A crimson, cheaters chair,
awful angers air.
No trust, truth or taste,
wallowed wantons waste.
Envious, eager eyes,
rejoicing a wrathful rise.
Coveting, careless couth,
yesteryear's eager youth.
Copyright © Stacy Stiles | Year Posted 2012
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