Why have I felt, the need, to break,
And unbind the fortune, of love?
Where there is so much, to behold,
I see tears, streaming precious gold,
I see a face, made with ivory,
Though, bendable like silver.
Your face quivers, from the gentlest touch,
And show creases of misery, from the widest brush,
A face of no sympathy, that I behold,
For thine eyes to witness, like Christ, upon the cross.
I am the cruel man, with his wicked, endeavors,
And the sad man, who shall live, forever.
Not immortal, beneath love,
I am maddened, to be far above,
Your petals, and your lakes,
The lilies, upon your face,
I am an immortal man, with eternal guilt,
Drawn with ambition, eating poisoned fruit.