Choice

The grey on my head
Paints the sobriety of my actions
Surely, honour have soaked me well for this
While the evil stomach churned
I would have preserved the legacy
But my heart wages war on my head
As cupid fiery bow has not missed it
my wits dropping like the plight of fall
A helpless throb drums for the forbidden
And desires have clouded my judgement
So how do I judge and how do you judge me
For the things you see are not mine
But the wounds of cupid's fiery bow

Author: Ulse

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