Through the deepest fog, I see two

Green illusions glaring out

Past my melancholy reflection to

Eerie disturbances lurking in the

Gloomy catacombs of my warped mind

Through an artificial glow, I stare at two

Enflamed figures, dancing in the moonlight

Driven to pain and envied rendezvous

Rounding midnight, when the blood is a poison

Of secret infatuation and contemptible wine

Through the passionate inferno, I catch two

Witches brewing spells in hopes of splitting

Cupid's Arrow into tiny fragments

Of wooden bones and hardened hearts

Lingering in my wanton memories

Through the deepest fog, I now see only one

Spurned devotion planted firmly

In the pitiful longings that create forsaken

Hands and adorn them with golden shackles

Such are the chains of regretful oblivion