Crafted with the love of an eccentric mind
In most decrepit a crib, isolated to find

Insalubrious incubation within a sterile land
Hermetically trapped within my own hands

Dishevelled and scarred, tremulous to the touch
This heart artificial, capable of so much

A love recognised, though she does not requite
So is sealed my fate under this canvas of white

A warm embrace soon to turn cold as snow
Her radiance, his hatred, in symbiosis they grow

Star-crossed, our ephemeral winter’s rhapsody
Scarlet gracing the ivory as she dances free

A perfect pariah, away forever shut
To bleed the tragedy of her final cut

For I am the man with scissors for hands,
And I long for a love that I know I can’t have.

Featured Image Credit: Osvaldo Samuel Rendon/Pexels