I am not some mere romantic
Hopelessly in love or seemingly frantic
I am simply a man with sophomoric antics.
Closing in fast and with my dreams supplanted
By what I can only imagine is a place unwieldily for simple magic.
For there are no dragons of ancient lore,
Nor, for me, beautifully tantalizing whores.
But simply mistakes of my past, to reach me at last.
I imagine everyone creates this place of loathings' past.
While some do not believe in hell defined by a scripture, I assure you somewhere in your eternal slumber you will experience the guilt of past discomfort.
I pray it is only for a second for you, not minutes or hours or years or eternities.
But to whom will I pray? Myself I dare not say. However there is no man in the sky to consider my actions against me, there is no entity impartial to judge lonely old me. There will always be a standard for justice, good, evil, loyalty, infidelity, and of course, people.
But who is our judge? Is it not oneself? And if not, then who else?
I say none have the authority to constrain one but himself.
And if he wish to abide by his own moral abomination, too far outside similar creations.
His life, it will be taken.