Ill advised to think things for what they seem.
All writing merely like a senseless blot.
To chase the perfect not more than a dream.
The most beautiful wonder thus hence.
You, a sweetness that makes all else bittered,
A realization with your presence.
A numb disassociation now incurred.
This relationship it seems has been laced.
So long an adventure I have chased.
My time the dull equivalent of waste.
Searching for a soul with the title chaste.
Chaste ’tis the lie of a whore in this case.
Love amiss, evil hides behind a face.