Why art thou the only one who feels the pain,
Do not I bleed, from blade of thy disdain?
Inner sanctums, lie within thy walls,
Whilst on the moor, thou heed not my plaintive calls,
I try to scale with love thy parapet,
But thee vanquish with poisons of thy amulet,
Thou tempts my soul with illusions of thy love,
Then fly away on wings of snow white dove,
I fear I've learned, is not love that thee require,
Tis not me, but is mine wont, that thou doth desire.
[This message has been edited by Mike (edited 07-31-99).]