The taste of this pill is a bitter symphony of light and shadow
Full of the promise of colour:- It's darkness unfullfilled
One, regret moulded into two, revenge
Three, hate turned into four, passion
A mighty wheel of fate
Moving the world of gods and deamons
A centry on duty, all prim and proper
Waiting for a promise of golden sunshine,
His lust burning as brightly.
Instead the cold of winter finds him sat in snow
Waiting for the turn of spring
Hoping it will renew faith undone
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