Den of the Cyphered Wolf

Wednesday, June 30, 2004


There never hath been a story of more woe
Love lost, love had. It all ends so so sad
Than that of Juliet and her Romeo
Death leads love down a path so so bad

Through break up or divorce or crushing death
Love never ends a rose but a weed
Over grown, overblown. It does take my breath
I hope no one ever plants that dark seed

Keep it from me. Should I remain stoic
And not let of that love feelings fester
Stone hard, Iron cold would that make me more heroic
Love, it should never be my grand master

And what of all the hero’s horrid woe
In that sad grand tale of Othello

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