Love plays all, but massacres but one humble heart
Derailed from conviction, she tinkers with deflections
Truth lingers in the presence of his double majesty
Though this sick muse withers her mind stands beyond firm
Under the daylight phoenix this shard pierces the middle of her eye
The pulse runs rampant, but her heart stays a silent rage
Biting down on the fragile waters that go whispering along the black hours
Sounds of pieces falling from time’s smile
In this I see love and cruelty are but a paradox beyond conviction
These broken pieces that she alone must sweep away
Though hatred dances with deflection, she kisses the illusion
And so embraces slowly rot away with broken smiles
Love will play all but massacre but one humble heart.
By Camille Tambe.