Demonic claws clasp your mind..
Taking your soul, lust becomes your shrine..
A wanton lover without conviction..
A heathen's heart, on a sinful mission.
Hardened heart and careless druthers..
Forsaking mine, you yearn for another.
Torturing myself, I continue to deliberate why.
I may not ever know, will always be my enduring reply.
Copyright © Twelve Noon