Blind lust is a
fool to wanton gaze
At emptiness
tricked out to daze
Not heeding the
emptiness within.
What soul lies
behind those wanton eyes,
Decked out with
death and dead’ning lies?
That breast
uplifted, those silken thighs,
Those welcoming
arms, those hidden harms,
Bid the blind
unwary enter in.
The fool enters
through the gate of pleasure
Tasting the
lascivious fruit of sin,
Not seeing death
its hidden treasure.
Blind lust is a
fool to wanton gaze
At emptiness
tricked out to daze,
Heeding not the
nothingness within.
A cautionary poem:
Remember that “death lies close by the gate of
pleasure,”
at least certain types of pleasure.
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