That a cupid of ustulation
A diety blindfolded with an arrow at the hip
Angelic to the eye but pthartic in the midst
With a swift hand they contact
Creating a marcid society
With aching bones and tattered hearts
They're turned away entirely
Wishing another day was not a preservation
Sitting with crossed arms and empty hands
They retreat with alarming correlations
And a mind that reprimands
Every day there's a loss of patience
Showing no connection that is thorough
Wide eyed with a shimmer beside
And a twing in the heart that burrows
They gaze into the soul of a being who is overcome by pride
Still they can't be seeing the loss of madness in their eyes
They are all wrong doings by the means of the high-power
With spit that runs sweet and a mind that grows sour
Aim with your bow and pull back on the quiver
Strike the bone to which you wish to deliver
String along the emotions that you drive from spite
Lick your lips before you move
She wants you to set your sight