T’is for us men to own our right,
For there nary a woman doth come forth
Who’d warm our souls but our own might.
Yet, what is man but a flesh shell
Were it not for the sinews of his act.
But I stand here disabused of my illusions,
Under a blanket of bitter cold
aglow with fire-hardened cauterized resolutions.
No more will I allow my precious vow to sell
Nor trampled upon my temple’s divine pact.
So trace with your reptilian guile
upon the parchment of your deceit,
and inscribe in blood-gore thy wont thus vile.
But the flames shall burn brighter still
And the stars will yet alight intact.
-Iliad Alexander Terra
Tags: woman's choice