The shade of apathy
Hides in reflection
If you don't meet his eyes
He wins anyway.
The lord of melancholy
Sits atop his horse of heat
He rides through
and sows entitlement.
The serpent of sin
is a scaled serenader.
He'll wrap you in strands
of finest silk.
The wreck of hunger
shambles
just over the horizon
and he raises a great cloud.
The liar of love
feeds you honey and mint.
He'll kiss you on the lips
and steal away into the night.
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