Disenchanted

I was blinded to the autonomy Of the actions committed in the time Moonfall hesitated, and did not see Malice in the eyes that were naught to be mine. The crescent curves of a smile's sliver; Indecision of skin, rancid and smooth; Plush sentences congeal as I quiver; Thoughts so careless, teeth dripping wir'y sooth. My sight could not pierce nightfall-scathingly Battened down were my mind and eyes, depraved by sour medicine dreams filling me, Unwillingly, with satire not staved. The birr which I painted your portrait with Disenchanted my world, a cause for death.