Triolet.
In thy’s presence I must cringe.
I coward and hide, hoping no revenge.
When placing trust in a friend’s hand, They bend the truth in your open hand.
In thy’s presence I must cringe.
There’s no changing in twilights dust.
The deed is done and there’s nothing but rust.
In thy’s presence I must cringe.
I coward and hide, hoping no revenge.
