It’s not too late for me to state,
my sordid tale of love and hate.

Yet strangely seen inside of some,
perchance to ones caprice succumb.

Soon sorrowed gazes soundly state,
phrases which shan’t permeate.

As my chagrin suits your surprise,
the lies surmise upon thine eyes.

Now profane precepts pierce my fate,
setting idle intent in their wake.