Petrarchan Parade (Hour 7)

Your transformation astonishes before my eyes,

For fealty’s hand given and now dotingly accepted,

I cannot conceive that I may truly ever regret it.

For how could I know that you are plotting my demise?

With slight of and, conniving glances, a rivalry soon reprised.

Such are things, cast as fog against sun, easily forgotten,

I have a gift for thee, my love once misbegotten.

A carnival of captured souls, ready for their demise!

For they once resided amongst the hollows of our domain,

Dishevelled and imploring our consideration and charity,

I parade them now, in front of you, waiting as lambs to be slain.

Raise up your armoured and loaded leg, dispatch with impunity’s bane,

Dispense your ammunition, present your decimation, destroy society.

Become My Phoenix, imbued with the shared wickedness profane!

One thought on “Petrarchan Parade (Hour 7)

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.