photo credit: dlemieux via photopin (license)

Speaking of my crimes, my black designs
That went astray. My steps in wicked ways;
When it is just lies to talk of love
Such a pretty word for want and lust.

When all along I knew I never had the words
For speaking of the truth, and my eyes just mould
Darkness into a perversion of the light.

And my defence?
My senses were overwhelmed by the reality of you.
© 2017 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.

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