Amidst the abysmal plains of solitude I roam,
edging off of the meek periphery of desolation.
I flee from this forlorn existence
and yet, I find grief beckoning me still;
the seductress of all
who so foolishly forsook their souls
How loyal you are grief!
unwaveringly forgive you my transgressions
(you offer a twig of absolution
to brush the dust off of my weary dire soul)
embracing me with your motherly grace;
the tender comfort of your warmth
is my eternal refuge from the putrid illusions of love and mirth.
how shamelessly I let indulgence my master be.
