I shall never impart affection a place within mine heart
I hate the tribalism that has mantled me
with this knotty, serrated, pitchy cloth.
The hour came for fancy to end,
the fancy I trusted, will never heal.
Even within my dreams I could never see it coming,;
it was the love that bled me out
as it blurted forth from the blood.
It’s a piercing consent where you can’t even give back,
as I have no treasure.
Grievance bestowed me no gilt.
Ok, I bestowed on the fancy.
Yet who shall tarry or bear with me
and disburse my essence with me,
promising never to disappoint.