Vain selection of time to wait in patience to breed impatience

What possesses a soul after the mysterious caress of the night

Striving in silence to suppress the tranquility; it’s an orthodox moment

So many unwanted thoughts crawl all over like slithering vines

Caged by them, but now vanity speaks of a different passion

Dreaming of giving an artificial splendour to the crumbly walls

While Earth displays a more sombre canvas derided by lasciviousness

”There’s no real love and the heart speaks poorly”, sayeth the world

The charming serpents overpowered the vainglorious soul’s choice


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