Child of love,
a treasure trove
holding promises of
unending pleasure and complex complications:
lesions of comatose mundane illusions
must inevitably scar
the tender fresh smooth skin
covering the deep, deep longings within
a distant memoir...
Who will forego
to taunt this cherub
thinking it a succulent roe
meant to satisfy redundant biologic arousal
disguised as misplaced affection and guidance?
Only maturity knows how to tousle
a vulnerable head in true subsidence
of personal pride and lust,
which never is a must....
Their Angels are mighty
They stand by God's throne
Ready to avenge:
Delays are not denials
Of Holy Justice
Time for the offender to repentů