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Jan 2019
You, Beauty.
You populate those thoughts,
Arisen from solace.
To Beauty.
My constant seduction,
No honor or valor.
You, Beauty.
Not once have you passed by
Leaving idle my dreams.
To Beauty.
Instead you surround me
With a soul in squalor.

You, Beauty.
I want you ever more,
With you as my master.
To Beauty.
Have no regard for me!
Waste me away, depraved!
You, Beauty.
In every form and place,
You find me seeking you.
To Beauty.
I am never more dead.
I am never more saved.
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Written by
notthepoethewantstobe  M/USA
(M/USA)   
420
 
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