Here lies,
“Mutual love,
The crown of all our bliss”.
Clean hands
Lower the “double dealing…
Intelligent man,
A keen and penetrating observer”
Towards the depths of earth,
Of the minds of those
Who asked to
“Show me thy thought”.
Who too late understood,
That in every rose,
Resides a thorn.

Lower the “double dealer”,
Whom shall “disclose his own secret”
Whispered by a fox,
Screamed by a man,
As he surrenders to the dirt,
Suffocating the “crown of all our bliss”.

This fox,
This man,
This crown,
Intertwine as one and rise
From the earth too observe those who
Draw their sword at
“Every puny whipster”,
Slashing at “tortures of jealousy”. And
Rise once more to seduce those whose faith
“Discards all female delicacy”,
Commending them to their
“Kind lord”.

The kind lord who
“Kissed thee ere [he] killed thee”.
Driven by “not witchcraft”,
But “fatal excesses…
Pointing to the greater extent of sufferings”.
Convincing us that those with the
“Power of inflicting torture”,
Receive the same retribution
As those suffering underneath.
Suffering under
Genuine emotion and honest truth
Spoken by the crowned dealer,
Who once risen from the ground is
Sentenced to “the torture,
O, enforce it”.

Mutual love and bliss
“Makes man a partaker of his time”
And shows man whose
“Images they stamp upon the mind”,
That pictures
Are a “satire on our nature”,
Forcing the image to bleed
More grey than
Black and white.