Be still my heart; cruel is she.
Undone her hands umpteen lives.
Generosity naught but a veil
O’er horrendous vile.
Though – enchants all intricate beauty
Beneath beauty lurks intents as knives.
Mothers – like setting sun, worried and pale
But seeks only to defile.
Springs Spring, to mistrust parry
Under facade harsh Winter lies
Blows away hope, mighty gale
Pretends of love all the while.
Be still my heart; cruel is she
Mellow rainbow to appear strives.
Be not moved; colours soon pale
To expose malicious smile.