Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Inflamed with Passion

I am inflamed with passion, but what for?
My eyes are burning, and my heart, inflamed
With longing, rages, savage and untamed,
Emotions spilling out of every pore:
Distress, displeasure, disenchantment, more,
Until my aching sores themselves are sore.
My passion has almost never been named
Since early on, that time we were defamed
And mocked because our heart was on the floor.

The time has come to water the back yard
Where yesterday the bonfire had been lit,
A brother to our cause, a perfect fit
For passions so inflamed we had to guard
Ourselves by giving way. This is so hard:
Rage, love, and death are but the half of it.

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