I Was Wrong

Excerpt from, 'The Sad Troubadour' While kindness and the caring tokens pass, all inhibitions looming from the dark who see it as philandering, they harrass each dedication made as one black mark. I honour and obey the rules to mention women who have praised me for my words, adore me, and for reasons why, intention helps a maiden for the sheer rewards. No malice or intent has been conceived, forgiven while the motivation's chance the genuine convictions one believed, was asking, "How I felt about romance?" If charm for me depicted love affairs I'd rather be alone than make mistakes for if offending those and no-one cares I guess my time was wasted for their sakes. No comment made will mend a broken heart for afterthought in serenade to song which understands the meaning, "torn apart", can leave it with the sorrow, "I was wrong."