It is but a petty fool that hides in sunders wake;
Weep not for morrows sorrow,
For the rain only aches for yesterday's decadence;
A man lost to mystery will have no more shame than that of forgiveness;
She bleeds like ribbons of steel-- down your neck,
Cold and violent all in a tizzy;
Calm the cool murder by which you condemn,
For I am not a murderess but the accomplice.
©Ashley Leslie 2013
