Well I shall tell you... and no i am not afraid to die. The gods have granted me safe passage through life and therefore i tread thin ice with no worries. Openly declare who she is.
Ah but you think i will give it to you... easily. Like that. I am sorry to dash your hopes, or what pre existing thoughts you had but I will deliver my message cleanly through a poem. no riddles, everything as it is, purely descriptive.
The door closes behind me
The gates, and it is all locked
locked and the key, it thrown away into the
hollow of my heart.
my heart is hollowed out for you
yes you, the indolent, stubborn fist, pressing
insistently for a breakthrough
and so I give in.
Strip away the masks and all
all strip, till I naked as the sky appear
and the darkness is all that i can hear
the voices the voices.
and the lady which tempts my soul
she has no name
she has no being
just a image, superficial and shallow.
entranced by her spell
the flowers and the pink, along with the overtly happy trot
through the hallways
the hair a bundle to the side
is this not a give away
O fool you may mock
the disillusioned bastard, perverse in all his manners
but no, gentlewomen of the jury
do not judge too quickly
For it is her that is the culprit
guilty
guilty
the crone, the witch, her standing there
as a poignant figure
unhappy, and i unattached to the situation
die, and fade away away from the situation around
it is over long o'er
the people shout and accuse, fine, put me to the stake
I am not worthy
there is no point in continuing the case. it is long over... over ...over !
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