Sunday, 9 June 2013


Lust has a way of hiding, calling itself love,
The black-hearted crow, disguised as the dove.
It manipulate's love's friends, trust and care,
To ensure when it meets you, it can your heart tear.
Sometimes in angst it reveals it's true face,
Before trying to destroy you by wielding it's mace.
When this happens of this be sure,
Lust must be removed, thrown out the door.
If allowed to remain and linger nearby,
Guaranteed my friend real love will die.