The Disenchanted

A life lived
Sour in no
Small intent
Stands shattered
Poised for ruin
And ready
To meet the ground

Monuments of an
Eternal disgrace
Forever live
As reminders
Of the well-forgotten past
And still stand
As the beacons
Of atonement
For no one
But themselves

Greatness chokes
On a stifled laugh
When the masses
Paw at its legs
And drown its feet
In the sweetest tears

The enchanted
And the liar
Lie in the same bed
And know in contempt
That their desires
Of sinful incest
Cannot be contained
Between the sheets

Our shame
Knows no bounds
But morality can be
The most fickle mistress
A scoundrel
Could ever have