Like a desperation, it must,
On a procurement of lust,
Enticing to dust,
Enclosed to burst.
That's how it came,
Incinerated my fame,
Castellate the undead,
Like the Socrates.
Perhaps I'm speculating wrongly,
For I have always been lonely,
Finding the place of Dorthy,
A magic I met one morning.
Did I do something unworthy,
For I'm castrated by the stars,
Indeed unwelcomed,
Or am I just a farce.
Will I end on a note,
Or a date foresight,
Thanks as I say,
I am no more afraid.