Eround

To love someone that is not good

Is folly, but we often would

Consign ourselves to bitter things

And take the bloodshed that he brings.

Because, of course as we both know

The play commands we suffer so,

Because we would not be content

To take an angel that was sent.

It foretells peace, and peace cannot

Create the passion that we’ve got.

And so, our ego and our id

Conspire to pry up the lid

And let loose folly in the form

Of bastard, bully, thug and worm.

And as he wounds us, we will sigh

And dream of ways that he can die