When the sunlight comes so will my rescue, belated.
My heart has sunk, my hopes deflated.
Blood is spilled, most of it mine.
Too bad you couldn’t find the time
Too bad I’m “in my prime.”
A clock chimes.
Well, finally you found me.
If we were younger, I’d be “it.”
I really thought I’d found the key
But my paper heart was lit
With a matchstick labeled “LOVE”
And with a less than gentle shove
I was thrust into the Scorpion furnace
And weighed down by this sterness
I could not escape.
Some rocks turn into diamonds,
But I burned into ash.
I couldn’t see beyond
His timeless gaudy trash.
What I thought was an Eagle
Turned out to be a Newt.
He really seemed quite regale.
A face of white marble, tresses of Stygian.
Always proper, and never abderian.
He knew of all that glittered, as well as that which galled.
He took everything he sought, his audiences enthralled.
But most charming were his eyes, stern but calm and cool.
Those eyes that made me cry, those eyes make me a fool.
Victim to his torture, victim of his crime
Receiving words that today make my rhymes.
But it’s over now; I’ve met my unlikely end.
Then again, that’s right, my friend.
You never saw our love, our romance.
How my feet were light and my eyes danced.
Never saw our passionate tenuto.
Before I died, I was the Lover of Pluto.
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