To me he was kind,
To another his heart belong;
I wanted both as mine,
But was wrong and this stung.

He said I was sixteen,
But this about my feelings not age!
'Can't till I was eighteen,
So I became enraged with rage.

Thrilled till I became ill,
I set him and his house on fire.
In his absence I'd heal,
Because I've burnt up my desire.

I can now sleep at ease,
Knowing my lover rest in peace...