In Two Minds, Faced With One Outcome
Darling, usurper of my council,
Wayward is the incline you wander,
You’re bound to stumble on the arsenal
I stocked when your figure was spotted yonder
Over by the gatepost, with a leg up,
And your hand-me-down flounce hem dress
That stirs men’s diffidence, but leaves corrupt
The want that burrows through his breast.
With your lips that siphon the lifeblood
From their willing hearts wherein
A gathering of staunch beings worship,
Blind with selfsame zeal of the Seraphim.
Still I beg the question must be asked –
To ignore the mind’s overturning rule?
See, I’m starting to think this be mine to fulfil;
Through farces I do play the fool.
Samuel Rye is a 22-year old poet/writer from the North East of England, now residing and studying in the North West.