Dishonor

I am not proud
That I stayed my hand,
She deserved my hate,
Her inaction stung,
Malevolence held captive on my tongue,
In bars unsung.

God gave good grace,
To a demon bound,
In leashes to fences of fear,
That refuse that description,

God intervened,
Kept my mind fixed,
And hands clean,
Divine tricks,
To prevent…what some would call extreme.

I am not proud,
That I remained non-kinetic,
Dignity be questioned,
Decadence be much,
I mattered not to her dressed,
In garbs of those honorable men,
But rather the cloaks of the dishonorable,
A boy not a husband.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s