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A Monument To Love
From the cradle to the grave we toil,
While the demon watches with a smile,
From his citadel high in the sky,
This castigator of all evil,
Rises at Dusk to begin his day,
The smile he wears making us shiver,
Those who see him for what he is…
Like a thief he comes,
From the apothecary of Hell,
Bringing his potions and sleepless nights,
To take a draught from his flask is fatal,
And means fresh work for the mortician,
Who smiles as he views his handiwork
Lying prostrate in the casket,
Decorated with silver cherubim,
Chosen by those who profess such love…
Inamorata! He cries to no avail,
She can no longer answer,
Or be persuaded by his whispered lies…
Mea Culpa he knows despite the secrets,
That lies in his broken heart…
His nights are now sleepless,
And he builds her tombs of pyramids
To mark his love,
But they are only cold stone memories,
Of that which he once loved…
