They say...well...I say, say they, and so I relay to you,
That those with passion lose a certain ability to be true,
For they are too brash, too close to see,
And too excited to be able to read,
And too was my stance on the matter 'till now,
I admit I mocked them quite aloud,
And I tried to erase all emotion from this sot,
And, thank ***, I seemed to have missed a spot.
For facts are not cold, and until you can touch them,
Many cannot sense the fiery passion at their stem.
Do not mis-strew my words, however, there are those who misuse,
Passion is a aptly named a fire, for like such there is control to lose,
But as with most, moderation is a steady guide,
And after then, but until now, my emotions I did not hide.
As I am now, reluctant to show heat,
Because as I do I can feel others', mine, meet,
Burning, melding, combining the two,
And then the pain of their death, to say adieu...
Well that was fun, but the real world is not for me,
Time to retract into anonymity,
"Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." or so I’m told,
However from my own experience, that phrase loses its potency, and quickly is cold.
For each face I’ve grown with I cannot but see their bones smiling at me through the flesh,
Smiling of their eventual victory over their fine human mesh,
I see the dripping paste of man melting off each white core,
Until my dearests... and my deepests... are no more.