Thursday, July 29, 2010


Covert intentions, a masquerade of virtue, 
Pretentiously demure in my territory, an almost chameleonic metamorphosis elsewhere; 
Prudence half-heartedly elided, liberty extended, 
Leading to regret later, having found my affinities evaded. 

Threatened, but not defeated; shaken, but not stirred, 
The venom of treason served as the impetus, 
Dettachment became the sense of purpose, 
After all, intrusive weeds are meant to be uprooted. 

Love is unlike transient weather, it is a perennial wave, 
Its essence neither seized, nor expropriated; 
For retribution is not a trait of the veracious, 
They have looks that can literally kill. 

- For someone I will never be able to tolerate. 

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