Oh Dear, beloved gal, I now see it clearer,
As happenstance it shall be by faith’s call,
Arth an angel or simply her mask’s wearer,
Trained to play the part and fool us all.
Doth thy bid theatrics so grand and fine,
For we are two souls that aren’t the same,
A heart as prologues brief and never mine,
When I seek the fortune and fame.