Pluto, the color of grass used to be green
How does it feel to be obsessed with your queen?
Picking flowers while surrounded by ewe
It stank, and I knew it was you!
Order your horses to hold your chariot back
As she never wanted to be your jack

Proserpina, the woman in sculpted marble
How does it feel to be a ruler in his world?
It stinks, and suddenly it was Gian!
With his great hammer, behind it all, began
As we might thank him for telling our stories
The pious prodigy, full of creations he could not resist

A little seed of sparkle I planted
Never knew would grow like unwanted
Upon Nyx stare at starry-night sky
Full of glimmering hints he painted

These desires that I hold towards to tell
Must crush or turn to a forbidden fruit
Since sins and injustice are not parallel,
Settling will make people just fall for it

I am falling,
On this pile of not-so-sweet maples
Wishing I never met farmers ahead of me
Where only Death should be at

Seasons have passed, the leaves have not
Still the same house he built on this tree
With nothing to offer but its trunk
Pirouettes in the wind, roots wanting to flea

How can someone be perceived
If one neglects his own heart?
Mirror ***** don’t shine,
They reflect and since—
Thy insolence you built.

Thy insolence you built,
They reflect and since—
Mirror ball, don’t shine.
If one neglects his own heart,
How can he perceive someone?

Her rhythm enthralled one’s nonchalance
I, who do not believe—
Would deify those golden lips if I have the chance
Indelible heart she caused is forgivable
Thus, dwindling warmth doesn’t bring full frigidity
As my devotion would hold this exuberant feeling, ineffable.

Her affirmative language spoke to my flirtation
Theories of firsts, I am confined with reverie
The subject on my amatory—
Poems that for every second I spend denies inanity
So peculiar that made it even better.

I might start to learn how to pray
As my perfidious nature belied my affection
Pardon my masqueraded actions on the edge of perceptibility
Such Virgil’s Aeneid, ad astra, the sweetest con
Aeternum amor I wish upon.

Someday in cosmos, our strings will intertwine
To whelve beside my grave rather than cry,
“I love you,” don’t act surprised
More than she could ever know, on my knees, and pinky
On the altar, with all my will
I choose her poetically, religiously.

Never have I ever been chosen
such picking petals: loves-me-not,
always ending up even;
ironic for someone who's odd

He’s so good at convincing people
how unfair to believe thy words-so-simple
“Mr. So-pure” forbade to touch
by min fingertips that bring grudge.

Proud of his ignorance,
seems like cause of my arrogance.
While his burden fell into quiescence
yet I hear it, so loud.

Those who are deaf will never get my nerve.
'Cause no one can, no one ever did.
One shall pick the dagger over me,
Not to be the hero but my enemy.