In deepest, darkest depths of my despair
I find myself without a saving grace.
A pendulum of pain prevents my prayer
from rising upward through the dead of space.
Within these walls a war where no one wins
Repeats itself just like a worn out rhyme.
No swain should e’er succumb to swinish sins,
for he who does the crime must do the time.
And yet there was a spell I loved her true
and in those days we dreamt without restraint.
Such merry memories now make me rue
a lust that was indulged without constraint.
For now I dwell inside this cursed abyss-
a captive soul who longs for love's sweet bliss.
Copyright © tommy boy | Year Posted 2022