Burning tongues of fire lick at my feet,
I turn my head to the quickening beat.
Cold fingers of ice caress my knee,
I look down, but there's nothing to see.
The feathers of touch tickle my soul,
Aroused I inquire; the beats grow weary.
Softly and quickly my arms turn to lead,
I ponder over all that I've said.
Questions and statements all mixed in with hate,
Depressed and disheartened I embrace my fate.
Moments of silence creep in with the cold,
While fiery glares keep my life on hold.
With desperate pleas I lay down the truth,
I slowly bring forth the sickening proff.
Sadly, alas, the gesture's too late,
My life has been captured by sugary bait.