To My Beloved

You’re a slick little trickster with a twisted, sickened mind
A quick look into your book of tragic pasts will find
That all things you whine about are simply imperceptible…
You’ve got the self-esteem and self-control of a vegetable…

I figure that the trigger of your quiver has to shiver
When winter and dissent descend upon defenses silver
The fences and pretentiousness of princes slip on by
The door you tore to steal the floor has since been mystified

I know you look at me and see the freak you think is in my heart
But your mistrust and lust has thrust you just into the part
Of the dove of love and thus you trust that you are seeing straight
When all the hawks upon the rocks are blinded by their hate

There’s another thing you seem to bring to all your friends
When you tell them of the hell I would have put you in
The lies that die upon the finding of your mindless game
Are all that wait for those with patience and with half a brain