Bothersome Practices

But stop, my heart has sunken in my chest,

For this vulture has deceived my regard.

His voice, a never ending singing bard

That controls my every move, a mere test.

Why would it not be, to treat thee as guest?

‘tis an obstacle; perfect skin with scars,

Foreboding the end of all pure vanguards.

The eerie solution seemed quite jest.

Never shall I allow myself falter

To a man’s utterly, false charming ways

And his overcoming meaningless chats.

I’ll bring myself harmony and alter

My feature of loving those who betrays

And swat them away, the horrendous gnats.