Momowords

Tell me your love is not cruel.
You needn’t – it does not exist.
Against you, I must constantly duel
But am shrouded by mist.

The mist around your heart,
It lies, it deceives.
You are a work of art,
Which my heart perceives
As love and devotion.
You hold a king’s power,
Your beauty is your throne
Raising you up – tall as a tower.

Tell me, can I ever change the path,
My soul has set for my coming years?
You needn’t – I can always count on your wrath,
To make my heart spill tears.

(Just to clarify, that was a partial rewrite of a previous poem I posted here titled “A King’s Throne Is As Cold As His Heart”)