Walkin on Air

Not Tuff Enuff

Might this be what hopes are made from?
You know, that which might hearts benumb:
emotions lost in treason's slum:
jealousy's scrum, jealousy's scrum.

She did not such impression give;
in fact, truth were I to believe,
she was young, inept to deceive:
I must forgive, I must forgive!

Many a tragic moment drenched
bygone roads whereon hope I clenched
in secret chambers much entrenched
whence I envy quenched, whence I envy quenched!

A creature of lust shan't be kept
but with judgment away be swept,
mocking love, love will ne'er accept:
Oh how I wept, oh how I wept!


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Not Tuff Enuff

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