Deceit was his mother tongue
Revelry was of his essence
And when the time came that he had overdone himself, he would resort to purification
Hoping that it would wash the debauchery away
He had a way of bringing women to their knees
Seducing them with false premises and hopes
They never bore fruit, however
One day, he met his match
A woman whose face could launch 1,000 ships
It wasn’t Helen of Sparta, but rather Ann
Ann was a visionary; She possessed psychic powers
She could sense when it was going to pour
She could sense his pretension miles afar
The two often striked bows and arrows
Until one day he was left pierced
Ann didn’t have the courage to look back
After all, she was fed deception
And was unable to differentiate any good intention.
ThePhoenixAlsoRises 