Serpents

I'd never speak those words of love,
For my lips are sealed for wasted warmths.
Sacred are the fairest rhymes I mouth,
Still my words seek prejudice and frailty.

Forgive me that I am stone-cold
And incapable of more, how you desire.
On ripped canvas I drew a soul for you to see,
I poisoned you with a gentlest sight.

Accuse me of whatever you decide,
Your words of tyranny awaken spite in me.
Those unkind chronicles of wasted love
I will keep safely lost while I'm alive.

I drank a potion that has made me fair,
For I've never been the one to catch your eye,
Sweet Sirens cry and cry for me to die,
But I am cursed to be a slave of life.

Faith I have long lost on paths of foolish pride
To deceitful nymphs with their false hearts.
I know it not: am I a fool?
For all I know, I do regret.

For sure my words shall lose this war of hearts,
For I am a nameless wanderer
In the ocean of your mind.

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