Cenotaphic

Lady Luck danced well with chastity,
Cloaked lust, a destined masquerade.
Untainted, naïve, with somnambulant tendency.
Together in unison they sway.

Drenched, despite their ancient ways.
Confined with such banality,
Torrential abuse concealed with lace,
Redemption reeks futility.

Stripped and bathed in an ocean of yearn,
Such is hazardous to insecurities.
Given away without a concern,
And stained youth’s purity.

Heroine who barely survives,
Autophobic, and all but collapsed.
Chivalry desperate to be revived,
Chronological thoughts have lapsed.

But now time has not been coy,
Sane thoughts briefly discarnate.
Yet still lacking senile paranoia,
Coincidence rendezvoused with fate.

Quivering intention, but now lifeless, robotic,
Plagued with what the acronyms framed.
Mind numbed with each unlabeled narcotic.
And I ask you, what’s my name?