First round a silent sound,
Second frown of grief out loud,
Third drown I'm a clown,
Fourth around in a gown,
Fifth sound of a breakdown,
Sixth knockdown to let down,
Seventh time tossed to a ghost town,
Eighth time around to wither under her crown,
Ninth rebound to disavowed,

Tenth death by dragons breathe in depth of contempt entrenched to great length by  the piercing scythe.

My pain exemplified above the greatest heights,
I wear the crown of premeditating pain,
Beating my heart past my skin,
It is happening again,
No man can take such torment from a kin,
Any man would pass experiencing these frights.

Each breach of the soul by her would dull my spirit,
Every bite from these sharpened teeth puncture me deeper into Bereavement.

No one would ever believe it,
the devil inside exposed only to my heart to sear it,
Roasted confidence from a impugn romance,
I'm contempt on my cross,
She levitates me upside down to keep me lost,
The light inside me burning,
extinguished by her permafrost.

I came in peace, I gifted a dove,
Sadism is what she loved,
If only I believed that a knife was always sheathed,
The illusions of intrusion into my soul was her achievement,
My agony time and time again,
pushing forth this Amplified Bereavement.