Stumble in my path-- pit in stomach grows.

Elegance I ought devoutly repay. 

Cupid’s arrow of Hera’s woes,

You bring these feelings out and fly away. 

Be grateful for your doom filled presence?

Grieve your existence with my tears of joy?

Your very being has shaken my essence.

Are you this perfect or is it a ploy?

I am filled with Sapphic rage over you.

I don’t know what to make of our time,

Lazy-- yet don't care for adieu.

You would know how to make this sad poem rhyme. 

In different time I would have longing,

In days of twice under tongue-- wronging.