Speak not of silent passions born of lust,
they wander through the soul with stompin boots,
aiming for the heart they bruise the lungs,
destined to survive to break the bonds of love.
Visions brought to life through hidden lore,
walk among us as unicorns must do,
bare of all truth, sweet fantasy alive,
owned for a simple moment in the mind.
Do not replace the brightly coloured day,
with seductive scented dusk,
living joy severed from all pain,
a painted mockery to hide a broken spirit.
Guard well the gateway to your soul,
that hidden well where honest passions sing,
proclaiming truth with bardic clarity,
a bond that none shall break.
Speak to me now of lovers pain, of knowledge truly gained,
of bruising moments full with living days,
and pain filled silence soon replaced,
with a seraphins pitched refrain.
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