I see my logic behind bars.
I put her there,
her auburn hair,
her pale blue eyes like burning stars.
"What now?" I say and turn the cranks,
"I should turn back?
We're at the crack
of Armageddon? Where's my thanks?"
Her strength drenched with betrayal, dew,
hes'tation's blood,
she envies mud.
My options have become but few.
"Oh, Logic," then I sneer at she,
"I follow Whim
and worship him!
You won't prevail -- I have the key."
What lies she spits from thin, red lips
formed like a rose
'neath up-turned nose!
I see her falsehood in her hips.
"Fie, fie!" I whisper, turn away,
"You hateful hag!
Of fibs you brag!
I'll still love him, this time today."
She screams and scratches at the steel
and yells at me:
"Please, stop!" -- her plea.
I put her on the torture wheel.
Her strength drenched with betrayal, dew,
hesitation's blood,
she envies mud.
My options have become but few.
"What good," she asks, "will fighting do?
It still will fail.
Once more, you'll wail
and dredge up old wounds torn anew."
She screams and scratches at the steel
and yells at me:
"Please, stop!" -- her plea.
I put her on the torture wheel.