Quick forgotten is
hope, that misery laughs at.
So dangerously.

Lies, that fill the heart
with pain, then evil intent.
So when they are spent.

Joy is gone for good,
and black is the resident,
replacing love. Will

love finally flee
despairingly. To darker
climes perpetual.

Then breast bereft of
ecstasy. May wither with
a constant aching-

and die for want of
company. To lie so still
all eternity.